The worst break-up I ever went through was with a guy who took it okay at first, but then became obsessed with me, for some unknown reason.
We'd only dated for a few weeks, but breaking up was still a bit awkward, because we had loads of mutual friends, and so we had to carry on hanging out together afterwards, most of the time.
He'd start the evening off behaving normally, and being quite friendly - but by the time he'd had a few drinks, he'd become an absolute nightmare.
He'd either throw temper tantrums all over the place, or start crying conspicuously into his beer, telling anyone in the club or bar what a "hard-hearted b*tch" I was.
If we were somewhere where he could influence what music was playing, then he'd always get the DJ or the person whose house we were in to play some of Bruce Springsteen's more tortured songs.
Then he'd sit there listening to the music, staring at me in a meaningful, yet vaguely threatening way, while yelling snatches of the lyrics in a really angry voice. This would go on for hours, and it put me right off Bruce Springsteen, for life.
As if that wasn't all embarrassing enough, then he took to turning up at my flat at unexpected times. One night, at about 3am, I was hanging out with my flat-mate and some other friends, when one of them went to open a window and then said, "Why is there a guy lying on your lawn, reading a book in the dark?"
I had no idea, so looked out, and - sure enough - it was the stalker guy. I yelled at him to go away, and eventually, he did, but he left his book on the lawn, and I didn't dare go and get it, in case he was lurking somewhere nearby. I was getting a bit frightened of him, by then, as he didn't seem completely sane to me...or to anyone else who knew him.
Anyway, the next morning, my elderly neighbour came round, hammered on the door in a fury, and then complained to me that someone I knew had been reading "dirty, pornographic books in my garden". She added that she would phone the police if it ever happened again.
Then she gave me the book back, and I couldn't believe my eyes: It was Fyodor Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment", a classic of Russian literature. No porn in sight, not that she would take my word for that.
"Why's it got a title like that, then?" she said, to which I had no answer - or not one I could say out loud, anyway. (I thought she was probably the one who was obsessed with pornography, if she'd assumed that that was what the book contained, but somehow managed not to say so.)
Anyway, after that, my tortured (but literary) ex gave up, or so I thought, and he eventually got engaged to someone I knew. I breathed a sigh of relief, until a couple of years later, he again turned up in the middle of the night, completely without warning; banged on the door until I answered it, and then asked me to marry him.
I said no, and told him that, if he ever bothered me again, I'd tell his fiancee what he'd done. I wouldn't really have done that, as I wouldn't have wanted her to be hurt, but the threat did finally stop him, and they went on to get married a year or so later.
I haven't seen them for decades now, but - as far as I know - they're still married, so at least everything turned out for the best! Eventually.
I've still got his book somewhere, so maybe he bought himself another copy...I bet he still likes Bruce Springsteen, though. I wish I did.
