I dated a guy in college that I could not stand. I mean, everything he did, every way he looked, everything he said, - literally - everything about him got on my nerves. I honestly don't know why I dated him as long as I did. He was an athlete and into sports and meat (which I would find out later on didn't mean he was just into food) and a real "manly" man... (not really, but he thought he was)
He was little - not little, like a little person or like garden gnome little - he was just - petite.
I should've known then that this relationship would not end well. Hell, I should've known that it wouldn't start well. It was obvious be his behavior and attitude he had a Napoleon Complex in a bad sort of way.
He shaved his legs. It was because he ran, he said. Right - because around here in podunk Kentucky the competition for running 5Ks was so stiff that the difference between 1st and 2nd place was a matter of who had waxed the night before. I'm sure the hot pink loofah with the Skintimate Raspberry Rain Shave Gel improved his game, too.
I broke up with him after a 2 year relationshit (no, that's not a typo.) I just didn't like him. He decided that the way to win me back was to stalk me. He'd show up at my work. He showed up drunk in my parent's driveway more than once. I ended up having to get the county attorney's office to send him a letter threatening legal action if he didn't leave me alone.
I later found out that one night while he was drowning his sorrows he ended up at the gay bar. And went home with a good friend of mine at the time.
Of the male persuasion.
I'm not sure if this is flattering or demeaning. Sadly, this would not be the last time this would happen in my relationships...