There are three kinds of guys that flock to me: black men, morbidly obese men, and crazy men. I have dated a lot of crazy men. (They are usually the ones with the best personality.) I know women get a bad rep for being crazy but when women act crazy they do shit like break into their boyfriend’s email account. When men act crazy they turn into Lou Ferigno in the Incredible Hulk.

And it’s always the ones who look perfectly normal and have good jobs that turn psycho right before your eyes. I mean, one minute they’re talking about trading stocks and the next minute they’re throwing a cell phone at you. Okay, maybe some women throw cellphones at people. But I can safely say I am not one of those women. I’ve never been very good at sports.

But the worst kind of crazy is not the physically violent Ike Turner kind of crazy. No, the worst kind of crazy is the subtle kind. When their craziness just stealthily creeps up on you and haunts your dreams.

He was a banker. He came from a good family. He seemed funny and smart. The only issue I had in the beginning was the fact he wore his pants unbelievably high and stuck his cell phone in the back of his pants. I mean, every time he reached for his cell phone he looked like He-Man trying to grab his sword. I thought he was going to start screaming BY THE POWER OF GREY SKULL.

The first time we hungout was a Friday night and we went drinking until 4 in the morning. He also smoked some of the green stuff but I didn’t partake because I’m not in college anymore. We decided to grab some food at Coffee Shop, this trendy spot that’s open 24 hours and great for post-partying munchies. So we sit down, order, and our Cuban sandwiches arrive.

Boy: Let’s say grace.
Me: Excuse me?
Boy: I always pray before a meal.
Me: But it’s 4 in the morning. And you’re high.
Boy: I’m serious.

So he grabs my hand and starts thanking god for our Cuban sandwiches.

On our second date (yes, there was a second date) he picks me up in a Mercedes Benz that is not his. He tells me that he’s car sitting for a friend that is out of town. I later find out that the car belongs to this doctor he is dating. Yes, he was picking me up in his girlfriend’s car. We go to this restaurant in Chelsea and when our orders arrive he once again decides to say grace. Okay, I don’t have a problem with praying. I pray all the time. Especially when it’s 3 in the morning and I’m hovering over a toilet seat and wondering why I thought those tequila shots were such a good idea. But I do believe in the separation of church and public dining. Especially when you are dining in a restaurant in Chelsea that is playing outrageously loud techno music and the men are parading around in sleeveless shirts. Somehow that just cheapens the act of praying.

And then there was his robe. He wore a robe that had these large Chinese characters on the back. What, did Pottery Barn have a clearance sale? Why the hell was this non-Asian guy parading around his apartment looking like the eighth samurai? Who in their right mind would actually own a robe like that and wear it around other people?

So he had a lot of idiosyncrasies. That doesn’t make someone crazy. What makes someone crazy is how they behave. I remember one time we were waiting for a cab and this woman cut in front of us and took our cab so he started yelling at her, “Yeah, I bet that’s why you’re not married!”

What? Who does that?

He also had all sorts of women calling at him at all hours of the night. He had no qualms just chatting away while I sat around quietly judging his robe. So the final straw was not the praying in public, the Asian bathrobe, or all the women he was simultaneously seeing. It was when he was at my apartment and yelled at me for talking on the phone with my friend Anthony. He said it was rude of me to be on the phone with another guy (for like two minutes mind you) while he was waiting for me. This is when it finally hit me that I was seeing an insane person. Because normal people usually use rationality to win an argument. I mean, he was yelling at me for being on the phone? The guy received more phone calls than a drug dealer!

I don’t even know why I let him stick around for so long. Oh, I remember. It was a slow period and I was trying to be more open minded. And so I learned a very important lesson. Never open your mind to new things.

*So I told this story before in my old blog but I “accidentally” deleted it so I’m telling it again…and I’m running out of new material.