by J. Camm on December 13, 2011

So with that in mind, this is When Exes Attack, our newest column that will thrive on user- (that's you) submitted content. We encourage all of you to write in about your most incredible run-ins with ex-girlfriends or girls who became ex-girlfriends, because we know you have them. We all have them. As always, we promise to keep everything anonymous. And ladies, we want you to write in as well. As we saw last week, shedding oneself of all rationality and self-respect isn't just for women anymore.

To kick the column off we have two stories — one from myself and one from a trusted reader of the site who I asked to help kick this off. This first is from my own personal vault. It all took place during the summer break after my freshman year of college.

One night, midway through July, a bunch of people and I were partying at my friend's girlfriend's house. Her place was our go-to hangout that summer because her parents left town on a three-month road trip to Alaska. Their little voyage and gross negligence meant that we'd get to abuse their house all summer long, so I'd like to extend a belated thank you for that.

Anyway, my ex from high school and I were doing the “let's hook up all summer thing” that people tend to do while on break. But on this night, as everyone else got wasted, she decided to not drink because she was dealing with some petty personal problems (nothing of any importance, I can assure you of that). She was already as attention-needy as they came (part of the reason why I broke up with her in the first place), so, as you can guess, her issues and sobriety were really dragging me down. She was just hanging on me like a f*cking ornament all night. Finally, when my brain was flooded with enough booze I snapped and said something to the effect of, “I just want to drink with my friends and you should probably go deal with this shit at home.” She got upset — as chicks tend to do when being set straight — but she left and I continued to blaze an alcoholic trail.

Not even two minutes after she left, my buddy's cousin, who was in town for the weekend, asked me to be her beer pong partner. I hate this on a number of levels. First,  chicks universally blow at beer pong. Second, they always try to make you drink all the warm beer. And third, you have to pretend their shittiness is endearing or cute. But I set all that aside and I agreed to play. I wanted to f*ck her and I'll do just about anything for previously untraversed p*ssy.

Fast forward to later in the night when my air-tight game debilitated her better judgement. I don't recall how it happened, but the party was dying down and the two of us went to one of the upstairs bedrooms. We start going at it. In no time we're both head-to-toe nekked and f*cking like livestock. At this point, things are going great — sex with a stranger typically does.

Well wouldn't you know it, mid-coitus, my ex comes barging through that bedroom door screaming bloody murder and “what the f*ck?” on repeat. The next day I would come to find out her “women's intuition” told her I was going to do something awful and that she should come back. I wish I had known; I'd of saved her the trip.

So anyway, once the ex comes in, this other chick f*cking dives off me, barrel rolls onto the floor, and snakes her way under the bed. Meanwhile, I'm on the bed, still fully nekked and my ex is standing at the foot reading me the riot act. Not to mention all my friends are in the hallway watching the entire thing unfold as my buddy's cousin army-crawls out of the room.

I'm obviously caught red-handed but that didn't stop my drunk instincts from taking over and telling me that I should pretend to be sleeping the entire time my ex-girlfriend was screaming at me. What was my train of thought there? “If I lay here, with a boner and a fake snore, this b*tch might leave?” Yeah, that didn't happen. She went on for what felt like a decade about how I ruined her life. But her warpath didn't end when my dick fell flat. It ended the next day when she hung up the phone after telling my mother everything that happend the night before.

Total catastrophe. My dad still laughs about it.

A reader by the name of Vincent Van Bro writes:

Me and my Bros head over to this broad's house and start boozin'. My Bro Drew zeroes in on the blonde biddie who owned the house. We had gone to high school with her but she had done the unthinkable… after she graduated she had gotten a breast reduction. Some sort of a tittie holocaust, or somethin’. Regardless, she was still bangable. He continued to spit with this girl throughout the night. Things were looking like he was headed to pound town. Unfortunately, our DD shows up and we head out.

As soon as we get back to my place Drew calls up his Ex. A little background on the Ex is she is unstable and has been known for doing irrational crazy shit, in other words, she is a woman. (One night she bit him in the chest, but that is another story.) So by Drew booty-calling the ex, he is basically playing with fire. Sure enough she shows up for daddy 15 minutes later and to our relief she’s sober so at least she won’t do anything crazy, or so we thought.

We are all up in the kitchen drinking and talking when Drew gets a text from holocaust tittie biddy. Before he can even pick up his phone to respond, his ex snatches up his phone and sprints to the nearest bathroom and locks herself inside. Another Bro realizes that something crazy is going to happen, so naturally takes his phone out to record. At that moment the Ex calls THB.

The Ex, all calm and creepy on the phone, goes on to tell THB that she and Drew “had been f*cking on and off all summer and that she thinks she should just know that.” As soon as these words leave her mouth we are rolling on the ground. Getting f*ckin' owned, Drew: tried to have his cake and eat it too and ended up getting dominated.

Drew stands there arms raised in the air yelling in his best Leonitus impression, “Why, God, why, why are all biddies so goddamn crazy!?” She comes out of the bathroom and promptly heads up stairs with Drew and we don’t hear from them the rest of the night. They still end up banging that night, which baffles me to this day, but I guess it was just a case of a dog marking its territory.

The next morning we found out the Ex’s rationale behind the phone call. Her defense is that she thought Drew was trying to trick her and that we were going to gangbang her??? And that she had to do something to get him back? They always say the trait of a true psychopath is that they have no remorse and no rationale when they have done something wrong.

Got an Ex Attack story of your own? Send it in here.