I've been accused of posting stereotypes here on shutitdown. I like to think I've posted truths. I'm working with people from 40 countries, and I've learned that although there are exceptions to all truths, stereotypes are often right on the mark. I recognize that stereotypes apply to me too--I'm a shitty driver because I'm a woman. My dad's a shitty driver too, but that's probably because he's a Jew.

I'm never sure what to post about anymore, which is why I've been reduced to wry observations about the Irish and other untermenschen. The only things that I can think to post about are my family, love life, work and minorities.

Since my family and at least three ex-boyfriends read this site, and since I'd get fired if I wrote about my job, I'm reduced to spouting bigotry and gibberish.

I'd like to post more about boys, but every time I start, the fear takes over. I've been traumatized by boys, and now at the age of 28, think I'm completely incapable of having a real relationship ever again.

The most annoying one ended with me saying "go fuck yourself" over the phone and never speaking to the fellow again. During our relationship, he had accused me of cheating on him with my brother and any other male I may have come into contact with. We broke up four times before it finally stuck. At one point I had decided that playing Snood for five hours a night was preferable to his company, which understandably enraged him. During one of our last calls, I broke up with him while playing Snood. "Are you playing that fucking game?" he screamed into the phone. "No," I lied, and unable to resist, shot another snood onto the screen. The click was audible, and the relationship was clearly doomed.

I heard from him 18 months later when he wrote to me to ask for the record player back that he had given to me. I looked it up on ebay and found that it was going for, on average, $7, and decided to move the email to my spam folder.

Before the Polack, I hadn't titled with anyone in a year and a half. The last one absolutely destroyed me--at one point he admitted that he thought it was a game to get me to fall in love with him. "That's just what you do, isn't it?" he asked, confused as to why I was upset when he broke up with me after realizing that his plan had been successful. He left me, sitting on my bed bewildered and in tears, hopped in a cab and flew across the country. He's probably reading this right now.

Since then, I've only gone out with younger men. This has been my way of combating serious relationships and coming into contact with taut skin. I have an unfortunate habit of getting into relationships with men who are clearly unqualified for the task. I really don't mean to, I'm just bored and an emotional black hole. I have intense friendships, an intense job and intense feelings about everything from snack cakes to synthetic fabrics. It stands to reason that my relationships would be the same, but it's exhausting. I just don't know how to avoid falling into relationships that I know won't work. I took my record-player-demanding boyfriend to meet my parents after just three weeks of dating. I just wasn't sure how I felt about him, so I thought that maybe they could provide some insight. My dad (rightly) pointed out that he was the first reasonable date I had brought home--he had a college degree (albeit in physical education) and a real job. He didn't have tattoos on his neck or a drug habit. My mother worried that he didn't have enough "edge" for me. As it turned out, he didn't have enough of anything for me, really, and I was what could only be described as a shitty girlfriend. I wouldn't be surprised if he were reading this right now.

It's funny, though, when I look back on these relationships. It seems that the more reasonable the candidate is, the more I hate them once it's over. Interestingly, the ones that I still like are the Americans, a small subset of my sweethearts. The only exes I've really managed to stay friends with are the one that married the stripper while we were dating and the one that managed to leave heroin under my mattress and in my shoes on a regular basis while he was hanging out in gay nightclubs. These are the ones I love, and the others I just resent. And the more I resent them, the more likely they are to be shutitdown readers. Funny like that.