Not too long after my ex-boyfriend and I started dating (like maybe a month or so), a war broke out and my country, including my immediate area, was being bombed to hell and back. The first night it broke out, I freaked out, and he was super cool with it. (I was born around the time a different war had ended, but he was old enough to have been through it so like most of my country's people, he was very chill about it all.) He was super supportive though, even put his crying sister on the phone with me so that we could freak out together while he tried to calm both of us down. Anyway, all the time I was there and it was happening, everything was great with him. Then one day, out of absolutely nowhere, my mother drove over from a neighboring country where she lived to forcibly pick me up and drive me there. Frankly that was incredibly stupid since the borders of the country were the most heavily, constantly bombed area, but nothing I said could change her mind. On our last night, he was wonderful and again very supportive and he had no problems with me leaving (or so he pretended).

First of all, there was a lot of crazy shit he did during that time but I was very blinded to it. I didn't really realize it until later, in hindsight. The time it really did finally hit me was maybe a month or so after I left that country with my mother. Every week, like clockwork, he would suddenly try to break up with me. Every time, I'd argue with him, fight to keep us together, and then we'd be fine. For a week, until it would happen again. Though I realized he was a bit nuts at that point, it wasn't until several months later, with this continuing to happen every week or so, did I finally break up with him. He was going through the we should break up routine again and I just said "okay, fine. Let's break up."

Him: "Wait, what? No. Why?"

Me: "You keep saying you want to break up. Every single week. So, fine. We're breaking up."

Him: "I was only doing that to see how hard you would fight for me."

Me: "....... Excuse me?!"

So, as it turned out, he constantly put me through hell every damn week to, I guess, try to quantify how much I love him by how hard I would fight to keep us together. During this argument is also when I looked back on those wonderful, supportive months to remember things I hadn't let myself see: how he would manipulate me, tell me that my friends don't really like me, tell me that they talk behind my back and all this, all because he was jealous that I wasn't spending every moment with him or something along those lines.

It was the only crazy relationship I ever had. We broke up that day, as when he told me his reason it infuriated me which makes me turn ice cold.