Destructive Criticism

Story Sent in by Dave:

I was with Kyla for over a year and we had an apartment together. I decided to take a weekend to fly out to see my family. Kyla worked Saturdays, so she couldn't accompany me, although in the time leading up to my departure date, everything seemed fine between us, and at least from my point of view, nothing was amiss.

I left, had a good time with my family, and it was an overall pleasant trip. Of note was the fact that whenever I called Kyla to say hi, she behaved as she normally did. We told each other "I love you," "I miss you," and "Can't wait to see you." Again, nothing seemed to be wrong.

Late Sunday night, I returned from the weekend to find the apartment in ruins. Every bit of clothing, some torn, was strewn on the floor. Kitchen utensils were sticking out of the walls and the ceiling. Electronics were bashed in. Food was smeared everywhere. Furniture was overturned. If a horde of Vikings had charged through our apartment, they could not have lay greater waste.

"Kyla?" I called for her and looked everywhere, in a complete panic, "Kyla?"

She wasn't there, but I did find a note, stuck to the fridge door by a knife. It read, "Dave, I don't think we should be together anymore. I took all of my things that I wanted. Anything else is yours. Byeeee!!!"

I called her up instantly. She picked up, "Hello?"

"Um, do you think we could have a talk? I don't understand what's going on, here."

She said, "Oh, it's easy. Anything left there is yours."

"You've done thousands of dollars worth of damage!" I yelled.

She said, "Wow. Your girlfriend breaks up with you and you're more concerned with your stuff?"

"It's not my stuff I care about, it's why you felt a need to do this. What do you think I did to you that merited it?"

She replied, "Oh, get over it," and hung up.

I didn't call her back, although I was essentially a basket case over the following week. What I did do was take photos of everything, tally up the damage, called a cleaning service, received an estimate, and called her father (whose number, luckily, I had) to explain the situation.

"I would rather not make it a legal matter, but there's been destruction of private property, not to mention the fact that I'll probably lose my half of the security deposit because of this."

Her father was very understanding and rational. He didn't go into anything about Kyla herself, but he asked that I send him the pictures, which I did.

Within the next week, I received a check for the amount for which I had asked. I didn't hear from him or Kyla ever again, leaving me alone to fix the apartment and fix, well, my life.