"Chris"

August 2005. Chris was the best man at a wedding I attended. Somehow (the open bar might have played a part) I hadn't noticed him until he walked by me on the dance floor. Being the outgoing, confident girl I am (read: hammered, and thus harboring no inhibitions) I grabbed him and we started dancing.
He spent the night in my hotel room (on the floor, as I was in the same room as my sister and parents. Get your mind out of the gutter, jeeeez!) when he was locked out of his, and we shared a very cute good night kiss.

I heard from him about 2 weeks later. Despite his penchant for the Republican party, I wanted to see him again and find out if we had any chemistry while not under the influence. I met him at a party and we started dating that night.
Unfortunately, the state in which I met him (hammered) should have been an indicator of the issues to come. He preferred shots and frumbles (shaking a beer can and taking turns with your equally genius friends hitting yourself in the head with it) to walks on the beach and sober dinners. He was never mean or abusive, just emotionally absent and incommunicado. The baby of an Italian family, he was raised to be waited on hand and foot by females. Well, I grew up in a household where my father did the cooking, laundry and gardening and mom fixed stuff with a drill, so I was in no mood to be someone's mommy.
We fought often, I wanted to be important to him, wanted him to choose me over his friends just once or twice. I stayed about 6 months longer than I should have.
He's now engaged to a girl who cuts his fruit and packs his lunch for work :/