The holidays can be hard on anyone. But if you’ve spent yours with a crazy ex then you know the true meaning of dysfunction. It was around Christmastime, and I invited my ex to my office Christmas party. We snuck off to my office for some time alone when she discovered, buried under the papers on my desk, a magazine that had some scantily clad woman on the cover.
This magazine wasn’t Penthouse or Playboy. It was something you’d see at the supermarket checkout line, nothing salacious. Instead of accepting this as normal, she flipped out and wanted to break up with me on the spot. As my first crazy ex, a nightmare that continued on and off for years, I got used to strange accusations and drama right from the start. Big mistake.
I’ve never understood how she connected the imaginary dots, but I know she had some deep-seeded issues. Do you want to know the really crazy thing? This was one of many situations over years. In retrospect, I kind of wonder who the crazy one was: her or me.