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You think you’re so pretty….

Many of you may remember this song from the American Pie trio of films… I heard it again and parts of this song completely remind me of a relationship I had in college….

This bed is on fire
With passionate love
The neighbors complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she’s on top

My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you’re like a disease without any cure
She said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think you’re so pretty

Caught your hand inside the till
Slammed your fingers in the door
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in womens clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty

Moved out of the house, so you moved next door
I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall
I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone
You’re driving me crazy, when are you coming home

Now I never dressed up in womens clothes or messed around with gender roles, but the rest of the song rings true… let me tell you the story…. (names and minor details changed to protect the guilty)

It was my freshman year at Auburn… I met her in a history class… her name was Sara, she was a sophomore from Florida. Blue eyes, blonde hair, medium height, slender, and had huge breasts (Hey, I was 19, what more do you want?). She sat next to me in that huge lecture hall we called history class…. being my usual friendly self, I said hi to her… and apparently that was all that was needed to start this roller coaster of a freakishly strange year.

We talked briefly during class, instead of paying attention to the professor, and then afterwards, being that was my last class for the day, she ditched her next class and we had lunch together. It was lust at first sight. I don’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I do remember wanting to see her again…. preferrably naked. We exchanged phone numbers after lunch and that night, I sat bored in my dorm room listening my roommate play his guitar and drink his life away…. I decided to call Sara and see what she was up to.

Twenty minutes later, I was over at her place. She had an apartment just outside of campus not too far from my dorm. We had talked about going to see a movie or out to eat or something… it was an early weekend (Wednesday, I believe) so no major parties were happening around campus.

We never made it back outside. Less than 30 minutes after my arrival, we were rolling around in her bed. The next few weeks were more of the same, several times a day. We would sleep together every night…. either at my dorm, or her place, whereever we wound up that night. The sex was constant, wild, and loud. The neighbors at her place complained to the landlord, my roommates in the dorm kept complaining to me… Being 19 and male, I didn’t care, I was a happy man getting a ton of sex. The bed was certainly on fire…

The problem: Sara was very obsessive and very insecure. I couldn’t go anywhere without her wanting to tag along…. heck, I think she would have held it while I took a leak if she could. Sara also talked often of death, which scared me…. she often wondered what it was life being dead and what it was like to die…. Usually any rational continued thought on this on my part was later replaced by mind-blowing sex.

Finally, in May, several of my friends on campus kept telling me that Sara was trouble and that I was changing, and not for the better… and around this time, Sara had her first brush with death… she overdosed on some kind of blue pill (I think it was valium)… and that’s when I woke up and realized “I gotta get the hell out of this!”

Sara recovered and I attempted to avoid all contact with her….. at this point she went psycho. She’d call over and over again and talk to the answering machine until it cut her off. We’d come back to the dorm to find the answering machine ran out of tape from all of her messages. The messages ranged in emotions from “I love you, please call me” to “You bastard, I hate you, I hate you” to “Wahhhhhhhhhhhh….. I want to kill myself”. Yeah. Scary.

In this particular quarter at school, we weren’t in any of the same classes (we met in Winter quarter), so I didn’t see her in class, although she did begin to stalk me…

One morning, I saw her waiting outside the door to my first class of the day. I saw her before she saw me and I ducked into an empty classroom and waited. Unfortunately, this was one of my smaller classes and there was only one way in and one way out. I considered skipping class altogether, but I needed to go this particular day to help prepare for a test. To avoid making a scene outside the classroom, I waited quietly in the empty classroom. I watched as Sara waited, visibly angry, outside the classroom door. Finally, the time for class to begin came…. and went… and I waited. Sara left. I quietly made my way over towards the classroom door, watching for her to pop out of somewhere. She didn’t. I made it to class.

On my way to the next class, I saw her again… waiting outside the main door to my next lecture hall-type class. Apparently this was her plan, to stakeout each of my classes and wait for me to show up. Fortunately, this being a large lecture hall, I went back outside and came in through the “emergency exit” door, sat in the front row, far from the door she was guarding. I guess she never thought to look inside the classroom.

My last class of the day, I wasn’t so lucky. She wasn’t standing by the door for this class and I figured she had given up, or maybe forgotten I had this class today. As I made my way to the door, I saw her out of the corner of my eye at the last minute… she had seen me and was coming my way… I tried to duck into the classroom, but she yelled out at me.

It was the first time in my life, I’d ever been physically attacked by a girl. Fortunately, for me, I was able to control that pretty quickly. I told her to stop the show, stop following me, stop calling me…. that it was over. She seemed to accept that and left…

When I got back to my dorm, I found “ASSHOLE” had been painted on the door. Nice.
The coming weeks brought more of her wrath on my dorm room, between messages being painted or posted on the door and my answering machine being filled with messages of hate and love….

The middle of June, it was time to move… I left the dorm behind for an apartment of my own, it was a little ways off campus and even better, far from Sara…. however, not less than a week after I moved, she found me again…. the messages continued until property management caught her defacing the parking lot side of my apartment. Sara went to jail. Suddenly, everything stopped. She didn’t call me, stop by my place, try to meet me in front of a class again….

Suddenly… I missed the mind-blowing sex and the good times we had…. am I a mental case, or what?

“You’re driving me crazy… when are you coming home?”….

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