Chronicles of a Crazy Girlfriend

Hello, Mr. Gingerbread

My name is Stevie Ryan and I live with my two dogs in Los Angeles. I am an emotional person always on the verge of an anxiety attack… so I basically spend most of my time having nervous breakdowns. This is probably why I am an actress. And why I cry a lot. After being in a string of unhealthy long-term relationships, I have been single for the past two and a half years. I have never been single this long. Ever. That said, having now had the time to look back on my past relationships after being alone for so long, I have realized two things: 1) I give way too much power to people I fall in love with.  2) I am that psycho girlfriend that people talk about. (You know when some one is like, “Yea, I dated her. She was crazy” ? They’re talking about me).

All of the following stories you are about to read are true. Names have been changed in order to protect the innocent and extremely stupid. (I’ve decided to do this Flava Of Love style and just nickname people things like, “Texas” and “Tiny.”)  I will be writing these by Volumes with each Volume representing an ex and my collection of stories with them. Confusing, right? The first few entries may not make much sense as to exactly why I’m sharing this information with you, but hang in there and it will come together at some point.

None of this should be taken as advice of any sort. After all, I just told you I was psycho. I am simply sharing my experiences as examples of what not to do in life. To be completely honest, I’m actually not even sure why I chose this topic to write about. If I had to guess, it’s because I have no life, so writing about when I did have a life makes me feel like I have a life now. Wow, that’s mad deep.



I’m going to refer to Gingerbread as Gingerbread because he was a ginger and he had no soul. Kidding, he had a soul…it was just very tiny and made of ice. I met Gingerbread when I was 19, fresh out of my parents house and living on my own in Orange County. Gingerbread was around the same age as me, worked and lived in LA, but he had grown up in Orange County. We dated on and off for a gnarly and painful 3 years. It was my first REAL grown up relationship. Most of us have, or will have, a relationship that ruins your life, shrinks your self esteem down to nothing and makes you want crawl in a hole and hibernate for 100 years. Gingerbread was that relationship for me. He totally molested my heart and head. But I don’t blame him. I was the one that gave him the power.

I met Gingerbread at a casting session in LA one day. He sent some dude over to ask for my number (that was the first red flag, coward move) and called me a few hours later. From that point on we were inseparable. Gingerbread would drive down from LA every weekend and stay at my place from Friday till Monday morning, when he would leave for work. However, we were not having sex. We had gotten insanely close over the first 6 months, but I didn’t want to sleep with him. I’m really weird about doing sex. My body does this weird thing when I’m intimate with someone where it releases a hormone that makes me think we are automatically married and I’m the only person they love. This is probably why I’ve never had a one night stand or a friend with benefits. Point is, we were NOT having sexual intercourse. Yet.

So after spending six months together, traveling, meeting each others families, and even sleeping in the same bed, we did sex for the first time one weekend while my roommate was out of town. It was awkward. It was awful. It was the middle of August and I didn’t have an air conditioner. I was living in a 1 bedroom apartment and for some reason my roommate and I shared the bedroom. My futon was directly across from her mattress on the floor. Even though she wasn’t home, I felt dirty doing it in the room we shared.

Gingerbread and I spent the next day in “love” at the beach getting sunburned. When we crashed out super early that night, I was still in the wife beater and cut off jeans I had worn to the beach. I remember my roommate coming home around 10pm and going to bed. Yes, the three of us were sleeping in the same room. It wasn’t as weird as it sounds.

I woke up around midnight to get some Aloe Vera for my sunburn and change out of my jorts. I went to the kitchen and noticed Gingerbread’s phone buzzing and beeping on the counter. I ignored it at first, but when it kept making noises I thought I’d bring it to him because I’m a nice person like that.  Right as I picked up his phone a new text message popped up:

BIRDY: Miss kissing you
 You still coming over tomorrow night?

I MISS KISSING YOU, SADFACE? WTF?!  COMING OVER TOMORROW NIGHT?!  DOUBLE WTF?! My heart started pounding out of my chest at a million beats per second. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. My head felt like it was slowly floating away from the rest of me like a balloon. I think I even went deaf for like, 40 seconds. With his phone in my hand I locked myself in the bathroom and decided to see what else was there. **Ok time out. In no way was I snooping. If I hadn’t seen that text message I would have never continued my investigation, but this dude was SLEEPING IN MY BED. I SHARED MY BODY AND MY LIFE WITH THIS GUY. Those are both huge deals to me and when I see a text like that, I’m looking. IDGAF.** There was a long string of text messages with Birdy that will be forever be burned into my eyelids. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. I did not understand what was happening. I had only been cheated on in high school relationships that didn’t count, this was real life. I had never felt so betrayed. So I called her from the bathroom floor:

BIRDY: Hello?
ME: Who is this?
BIRDY: Uhhh… Birdy… Who is this?
ME: This is Stevie.
BIRDY: Stevie? Oh. Stevie. Gingerbread showed me photos of you. You’re very pretty.

HOLD THE FRONT DOOR. SHOWED YOU PHOTOS OF ME?  WHAT. THE. FIZZY. Who does that? What was happening? Was I in a dream? I didn’t even know what to say for a solid 20 seconds.

BIRDY: Hello?
STEVIE: You know Gingerbread and I have been dating, right?
BIRDY: Oh, honey… Umm…
STEVIE: Like, we had sex.
BIRDY: Oh, ok. I’m so sorry… This happens a lot.

CLICK. SHE HUNG UP ON ME. I was beyond furious. So, in true Bad Girls Club fashion, I popped off. Bra-less in a wife beater and cut off jeans, I made my way to the bedroom to go straight ham on this dude. I busted in the door, flipped on all the lights and started shouting at the top of my lungs,“TIME TO WAKE UP!”  Then, like a straight up ninja I jumped on top of my futon and somehow found the strength to pull Gingerbread out of my bed, “GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT YOU LIAR! GET OUT! LIARS AREN’T ALLOWED TO HANG OUT HERE!”  He jumped to his feet in a panic, probably thinking the building was on fire or a horrific accident had just happened. “What?! What’s going on?!” I shoved the phone in his face. “WHO’S BIRDY?” My roommate was now sitting up in her bed, watching like she had front row tickets to a Beyoncé concert.

Gingerbread starting getting defensive,“Why are you going through my phone?!  Are you crazy?!”  That’s when I knew he was lying. Some people do this aggressive thing when they get caught lying where they try to turn it around on you and act like you did something wrong, so now they’re upset. That weird defensive attitude is a dead giveaway someone just got busted. And I don’t play that game.

Me: I wasn’t going through your phone! I saw a text pop up!
Gingerbread: Yeah right! Whatever! This is ridiculous! That’s an invasion of privacy!
Me: What’s ridiculous is you lying to me and sleeping in my bed! That’s an invasion of my privacy and my vagina!
Gingerbread: You’re insane!

I grabbed his shoes, clothes and keys, ran out the front door and proceeded to throw his belongings down the stairs (we lived on the 2nd floor).  Barefoot in his SpongeBob pajama shorts, he ran downstairs after his stuff. The whole thing was so intense and happened so fast that I can’t even remember what we were saying to each other. But I do remember what I yelled before I went back in my apartment and slammed the door:


Who the heck do I think I am with that talk? I have no idea why that was all I could come up with at that moment, but at least it worked. After that scene I was in shock, shaking and distraught. I felt like a crackhead prostitute who had been up for 7 days and just tried to rob someone. My roommate slowly came out from the bedroom, “That was kind of awesome. Are you alright?” I started sobbing and melted into the carpet. I was totally NOT alright. Not at all. I was heartbroken. I cried her to sleep, but not myself. I relieved it a million times that night and drove myself insane.

I didn’t hear from Gingerbread, which made me feel even worse. I didn’t understand why he did that to me.  I wanted to know everything. For the next month I was a wreck. I didn’t want to do anything. Every time my phone made a noise I secretly prayed it was him. It never was. I knew I couldn’t be with him because he had lied to me, but I felt like I needed closure. I feel so pathetic even writing that. I’ve just decided I’m never needing closure again.  It’s not real, it’s just the hope you’re still hanging onto and calling “closure.” I JUST NOW MADE THIS REALIZATION. Big moment for me, guys.

A month later Gingerbread started texting me again. My heart sang and angels came out of the sky. Even though I knew he was bad, I wanted to talk to him. So I did. I really shouldn’t have, but at that time I thought people could change into better people and silly fairytale things like that. Of course, after talking we somehow ended up back together. Yes, I was stupid. This only lead to even worse situations and the slow demise of my self worth over the next 3 years, but I guess you’ll just have to read the next entry to find out about that…

Image via Etsy