Men Who Self-Sabotage Themselves In Relationships

At aparty weeks back, my friend Angela fell for a handsome Brit named Alafter he charmed her with tales of his off-the-beaten track existencetraveling the world. The next evening, they talked life and politicsover a steak dinner then agreed to meet again.

Alcharmed Angela even more the next afternoon when he canceled plans withhis buddies to join her on a trip to Verizon to get her phone fixed.After spending the afternoon and subsequent evening together, Angelathought she’d finally met a mature, baggage-less man with whom she couldhave a relationship. If only she knew.

Duringa dinner party the following Friday night, Angela reached for her phoneto discover Al had called. Six times. Though a bit ruffled, shedecided to make her way to the bar where he was drinking with friends.When she arrived, Al was completely hammered, saying things like, “Ishouldn’t have called you, are you angry? It’s just I couldn’t getthrough and I thought maybe you were avoiding me. You don’t like me, doyou? I know you don’t, why would you? You’re too pretty for me andI’m shit as a boyfriend, absolute shit. I don’t want to mess this upwith you. I won’t get attached, I won’t get attached!”

Y’know, the kinds of things some guys think but neeeeeeever actually say.

Aftersome reassurance from Angela, Al nixed the heart-on-sleeve talk andcontinued to enjoy the IV of pilsner stuck into his veins. End of thenight at his place, Angela’s attempts at being intimate were interruptedwhen Al declared, “you’re too sexy. I’m shit in bed, absolute shit,”then passed out. Angela fell asleep beside him and was getting somegood REM sleep when the bed started shaking. She woke up, looked acrossthe mattress and…

Al was picking his nose…and eating it…in his sleep.

Unfortunately,Angela was stuck since it was 5 am and she was on the other side oftown. The next morning, she made a lame excuse then bolted to my placeto tell me the whole story and see if there was any reason to salvagethings. Together, we broke it down to what worked and what didn’t.Pros: when he’s sober, he’s smart, funny and kind. Cons: he eats hisown snot.

In the midst of our analysis, Al called and said, “I thought maybe you’d like to come over.”

“I’m with my friend,” Angela told him.

“But I thought it’d be nice if you came over.”

“My friend’s not feeling well,” Angela lied. “I should stay with her.”

“Look,” he said angrily. “Are we seeing each other or not?”

But before she could answer, the call dropped.

“Okay,” Angela told me. “This is sooo finished.”

But she didn’t even get the chance to end things. Angela was thedumpee. Sunday morning, Al left a message saying, “hi, um,yesterday’s conversation was discouraging relationship-wise, but youknow, it’s hard to find good conversation, so maybe we could stayfriends, go for coffee and talk about bollocks, and you know, that wouldbe nice, and, well I’m shit on answering machines, so I’m just going tosay goodbye now, so, okay, well, take care.”

Theworst part for Angela was getting dumped by a neurotic booze hound whoate his own bodily fluids. The best part was she no longer had to date aneurotic booze hound who ate his own bodily fluids.

Inthe end, we hoped that Al, as friendly as he was, as funny andgenerous, wasn’t as much of a neurotic nosepicker as he seemed. Infact, we imagined it was all a game, a bet he made with friends to seewho could self-sabotage himself out of a decent relationship in theshortest amount of time:

He’s anillustrator from London who enjoys hiking and badminton, his hobbiesinclude using his inner demons to back himself out of relationships withpretty women and eating boogers. He’s got enough intimacy issues tosink a Russian sea liner, he’s Al, ladies and gentlemen, give him ahand.

Anyway, I’m fairly certain he won.

**Reprinted from Laura K. Warrell's blog Tart&Soul at www.TartandSoul.com.