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The Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past

A Spooky Thought

By Rusty ShacklefordPublished 4 months ago 14 min read
The Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past
Photo by Photos_frompasttofuture on Unsplash

I don’t have a very good relationship with any of my past exes.

They might have asked to be friends but quickly got friend-zoned in my early years.

Sometimes the shoe was on the other foot and they broke up with me for reasons I’ll never truly know.

What would happen if I got all of my exes together and put them in a room full of “We Hate Rusty” cookies and “Rusty is a dick” coffee?

It would be like the Sinister Six on steroids.

The Troll

By charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

The first and most obnoxious voice that would be the ring leader of this band of evil exes would be my most recent one.

My Ex-Wife.

Yep, I’ve been married before if you want to call it a marriage.

I call her the troll because she thought it would be a good idea to get these creepy-looking “Coffin” fingernails. With her short stubby fingers and her lack of height, she looked like she was a straight-up troll. If your a Harry Potter fan, just imagine Umbridge.

While I’ll be the first to admit to all of you that I’m no saint, she is worse. Normally a marriage has some give and take. She just took.

At the risk of sounding like a cliche country song — She took my dog, my truck, and the baby that turned out not to be mine.

Then, she dared to ask for child support for a child that wasn’t mine. When I told her no, she went on Facebook and called me a deadbeat drunk who wouldn’t take care of his own daughter.

I can’t make this shit up folks.

While it angered me to no end to have my name slandered on social media, there were a few friends that I had on Facebook that were aware of the situation. They made sure to defend me on her Facebook post. She promptly deleted them and told everyone else that they were lying. Wait, is she related to Donald Trump?

No, but she could have fooled me with the hair.

Nowadays, she rocks a tattoo on her face, continues to talk shit about a relationship that ended over three years ago, and has another baby daddy.

Mother of the year!

Wow, I’ve never been so happy to call someone an ex than her.

Then There's Janice

If you grew up watching the 90’s sitcom “Friends” then you will remember Janice. She screams “Oh-My-God!” and her laugh can make any man’s dick in a one-mile radius shrivel up, turn black, and fall off.

Don’t worry Chandler, I had a Janice too.

While her name wasn’t actually Janice, she could have fooled me.

I met Janice when I was working at Bob Evans after just graduating High School. She was a server and I was the guy in the back that made the salads and washed dishes. Sometimes both.

I learned two things while working at that Bob Evans.

Don’t eat at Bob Evans.

The servers are hot.

She would come back and just talk to me while she had free time and I offered her some fresh fruit I had just cut. Yes, that’s technically stealing but I don’t think Bob Evans is that concerned over a few pieces of Cantelope.

Janice would invite me and a few other friends from work out to her house for a night of drinking, drugs, and video games.

We were all underage but that didn’t stop us. She offered me the bong and I of course took it. I never turned down weed, that shit is expensive, and if someone offers it you always take it. It’s just weed etiquette.

That night I got my noodle wet. It was great.

She was attractive but I just couldn’t get over some of the quirks that she had.

Okay, I’ll be honest with all of you even if it’s an embarrassing story for me.

While Janice and I were having said coitus, I had left my boxers on. When we were finished I went into the bathroom to drain the lizard and I kept getting the smell of shit. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from until I looked down and saw a big ass brown streak on the front of my boxers.

Janice had wiped her ass on my boxers as we had sex that night.

Yeah, I chucked those boxers in her trash and booked it the fuck out of there as soon as I could. All while going commando. If you can’t wipe your ass efficiently then how can we be in a committed relationship?

I never told her about it because I’m sure she would have been more embarrassed by it than I was.

I mean could you look someone in the eyes and tell them that they used you as their personal roll of toilet paper?

While I thought it was just a one-and-done type of deal, she had other plans.

Janice had recently gotten her mom a job at the same Bob Evans we worked at. Not as a server, but as a Kitchen Prep Cook. That meant she was working in the same department as I was.

So when I broke the news to Janice that it was just a one-night thing my entire world went to hell. Her mom did everything in her power to make my life at work miserable. She wouldn’t help me with orders, and she would leave me completely fucked when I came into work after her shift. It was a nightmare.

I would imagine both Janice and her Mom would be at one of these Anti-Rusty Meetings. They would sit there in chairs waving underwear-like flags with skidmarks on them, chanting “Skidmarks have feelings too!” Doing anything they could to make me miserable was one of their favorite things.

Scary Mary

By Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash

While I’ve had a few stalkers in my dating life, I’ve never had one this crazy.

I gave her the name Scary Mary because when I broke things off with her things got pretty damn scary.

She was a nice girl but boy was she clingy. If you rank clingers, she was a Stage Five Clinger. The worst possible kind.

When I would be working on my truck she was right there staring at me as I did it. When I was taking a dump, she was right there peeking at me under the door like a scary-ass clown. Once we started dating, she wore so much makeup that she looked like a clown and a raccoon were her makeup advisors.

As shameful as it was, I broke up with her over text.

I know, shame on me. She deserved to be broken up with in person but I was scared. I had been hit during a breakup before so I really didn’t want to subject my fragile body to another beating. We will get to that story later.

After the break up I started to notice her car around my neighborhood. This was weird considering she lived over 30 miles away. Maybe it was just a coincidence I naively thought.

Then one day I was filling up my gas tank at the gas station when a familiar blue Saturn pulled up to the pump behind me. I looked over and saw Scary Mary in the driver’s seat and a rather large African American man in the passenger seat.

Was I about to die?

Nope, fuck that, I’m outta here.

I threw the nozzle at the pump, jumped in my truck, and sped out of there faster than Speed Racer. I think the tire marks are still there to this day. When I looked in my rearview mirror they were following me.

Jesus Christ! I had to lose them!

I had the hometown advantage so I knew all the roads better than she did. I took dirt roads because I knew her little Saturn couldn’t handle them as my truck could. I was also hoping the dust would cover my tracks. After a few random turns, I thought I lost them so I called my friend Jenny up and told her about it. She was in the area so she said she was just going to come over.

I pulled my truck into the garage and waited for Jenny to arrive. Once she did we talked about how terrifying she was and how I needed to get a restraining order from the police. I don’t like cops so I tried to tell her how I could handle it on my own. That’s when I heard the doorbell ring.

I looked through the peephole and saw her.

Scary Mary was standing there with her big bouncer back up.

I immediately locked the door and looked at my friend Jenny with wide eyes. I silently mouthed to her to hide. We both ran upstairs and hid in my closet. I don’t know why I thought the closet was the safest place to hide. In the movies, that’s where the main character goes to die.

The doorbell kept ringing and I could hear her screaming about how she knew I was in there and that she wanted to talk to me. It was like I had been transported to the middle of a horror film. It couldn’t be real, I had to be dreaming. If only ring doorbell cameras had been invented back then. I could have been famous on YouTube.

That’s when we heard a bunch of swearing followed by the sound of breaking glass. This scary bitch thought that my friend Jenny and I were hooking up. When we looked out the window my friend Jenny’s car was in the process of being trashed with baseball bats.

We both didn’t want to be on the receiving end of those bats so we stayed safe inside. We watched in horror as her little 90s Nissan had its hubcaps smashed in. Then in red, they spray painted “Skank” on the side.

When they were done fucking up my friend’s car they got in the Saturn and peeled out of my culdesac. My friend Jenny looked over at me and said “Still think you can handle this yourself?”

Jenny was reimbursed for her car through insurance and I got a restraining order on Scary Mary that same day. A police report was filed about the vandalism to my friend’s car and Scary Mary and her Muscle were arrested the next day. I’m not sure what exactly happened to them but I know I never heard from her again.

I would imagine she would be sitting next to the troll eating a “Fuck Rusty” cookie and telling her about how I cheated on her.

Last But Not Least

By Sarah Cervantes on Unsplash

We have the bruiser.

The bruiser is the OG. She was my first girlfriend that was as serious as she could be in a high school relationship.

She was a hard-core Christian but damn was she hot.

We were in band together and she played the flute. I was a percussionist and nothing is hotter than a drummer. I was a big flirt in high school. Any time she would be in my vicinity I would make some kind of flirty remark. Being funny didn’t hurt either.

Eventually, the fact that I was a hot-ass drummer and was straightforward about my intentions made her attracted to me. It probably also helped that I was an upperclassman. For some reason, girls tend to like older guys. I still don’t know why.

We started dating and it was great. I didn’t really know what I was doing because it was my first relationship so I stayed in the holding-hand phase for a really long time until I grew the balls to go in for a slobbery kiss.

Turns out, there is an unspoken rule when going to band competitions. What happens on the band bus, stays on the band bus. It was like being in the movie “American Pie: Band Camp” except I never saw her put a flute in her pussy.

She was a Christian after all. We had to save some of that stuff for marriage.

While she was thinking about marriage, I was thinking about how I was going to break up with her when I graduated.

After all, there were going to be hot college babes for me to pine after.

Between that and making me go to every church activity they had to try to convert me, I knew I needed out.

So I told her.

When I was dropping her off at her house after a church play I let her have it. We sat in her driveway as I broke up with someone for the first time.

I told her I’m not a Christian and I won’t ever be a Christian and that if she was going to keep trying to make me someone I wasn’t then I was done. She didn’t like that answer one bit.

She asked if I was breaking up with her.

I told her yes.

Then she turns to me and begins to wail on me. Just punching the living daylights out of my arm. It was like she was trying to tenderize meat without a hammer. Then she told me how much she hated me and got out of the mini-van my mom let me drive at the time and slammed the door as hard as he could.

That door never did open right after that.

She beat the shit out of me and ruined my mom’s van door.

If that’s not karma, I don’t know what is.

Over the summer, she would try to entice me back to her like a siren offering sex and tit pics. While I appreciated the offer something told me it was a bad idea.

Then her mom started calling my mom. She told my mom how depressed she was and how she was convinced we were going to get married and have children someday. My mom was blown away by this. She told her mom that we were just kids and we had no business thinking about marriage yet. Then she recommended a good counselor for her to go to.

We thought everything was resolved.

Then I opened the front door to notice a box with a note taped to it. It read “If I can’t have you, then I don’t want to remember you.” Inside the box was everything the bruiser had kept during our relationship. This included pictures, mementos, and ticket stubs from the dates we had been on.

The harassment didn’t stop there.

While on my back porch enjoying a cigarette I noticed a Toyota Rav that looked like hers that kept circling my house. I counted as it kept circling.







Jesus, twenty fucking times?

My mom came out of the sliding glass doors to join me when I told her about the situation. On circle number twenty-three, my mom walked into the middle of the road and stopped the car. The bruiser and her had a conversation while I sat on the back porch eating my cheesecake and watching.

My mom came back a few minutes later and told me I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. I asked her what she had said and my mom told me that she was batshit crazy and that if I ever went back to her I was going to be on my own. I still don’t know what the exact conversation was to this day.

All I know is that my mom saved my ass from a crazy ass stalker.

That was good enough for me.

The Meet And Greet

By Jason Goodman on Unsplash

After hearing all about their backstories I’m sure you are as curious as I am about how they would interact.

They all have the common enemy of that bastard Rusty Shackleford.

I know the troll would be their leader for sure. She would lead them in their Anti-Rusty anthem at the beginning of every meeting.

“I pledge allegiance to hate Rusty with every fiber of my being.

And to the relationships for which he’s in.

All members united in hate.

Toxic and Divisive.

With Malice and Stalking for all.”

After their pledge, they would share their experiences about how much I fucked them over.

Janice would say something about how I left my boxers in her trash can and never talked to her again.

The bruiser would talk about how I couldn’t take a punch.

Scary Mary would tell everyone about how I supposedly cheated on her and got her arrested.

The troll would end the meeting with her own web spun with lies about how I’m a drunk deadbeat dad the revoked his rights to see his own kid.

These aren’t all the members of this Anti-Rusty club that would be there. These are just a few that I know for a fact would be there. I’m sure there would be others out there with names I don’t even remember because of how drunk I was.

While they all hate me I imagine they would have at least one good thing to say about me.

“He’s a bastard but damn was he good in bed.”


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