Time to Hit the Bricks

Story Sent in by Emily:

Jake was a guy I met over the Internet, and we dated briefly. He and I had some good times together, but he had a violent temper that he uncloaked for me not too long after we began to date.

Our first two dates went well, the first one being at a restaurant for dinner, the second being at a cafe for brunch and then a movie and then a friend's house for dinner, drinks, and ping pong. Jake muttered whenever something happened not to his liking, which occurred, from what I gathered, often. He also told me that he had to go on walks by himself whenever he became mad, and that happened three times over our first two dates. I thought to myself that as long as he dealt with it peacefully and without hurting himself or others, then that was all right. He never told me what made him mad, so I didn't know if it was myself who set him off or not.

On our third date, he took me to an ice cream shop, and planned thereafter to take me to a museum. When we walked into the ice cream shop, he told me, "Get whatever you want. It's on me."

I thanked him and picked out a two-scoop sundae, in a cup. He gave me a dirty look, then ordered a sundae for himself. I picked a place for us to sit down. He followed me to the table, put his sundae down, and said, "I'll be back. I'm going to go for a walk."

"Everything okay?" I asked him.

"No," he replied, and left the ice cream parlor.

After a half-hour, his ice cream had melted, and he hadn't returned. I called him up and he answered, his voice tense and trembling. "My ice cream has melted? Fine. I'll be right back."

He arrived a few minutes later and flopped down across from me. He picked up his ice cream cup and dropped it, ice cream-side down, onto the table.

"This is liquid, now," he said, "I can't eat it. Can you explain how you expected me to eat it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they could have re-freezed it for you."

"Maybe they could have re-freezed it for me?" he repeated, "Wait here just a minute."

He left the store and I watched through the window as he walked across the street to a bank and punched its brick facade about ten times. He then returned to the ice cream store, walked over to me, and said, "I have to go. My hand just started bleeding for no reason."

"Okay," I said. He left, and after that incident, I ignored his calls and emails. In retrospect, yes, I should have seen the signs of an anger problem earlier, but I was young, and I consider myself lucky to have had the sense to end things when I did.