The New Year Purse Snatcher

I was talking with a friend the other day and the subject turned to New Year’s Eve, or more specifically, the worst New Year’s Eve experiences we’ve ever had. For me that’s easy; it was 2002. Hands down. No debate. Nothing else comes close.

I was right smack in the middle of the worst breakup of my life. I’ve written about it here on the blog before, but I don’t think I’ve ever explained how the whole situation was impacted by one really bad New Year's celebration. Against my better judgment, I’m going to do that now.

We were in one of those strange relationship periods that only make sense at the time. Technically we were broken up, but we were still seeing each other. We were still presenting ourselves as a couple, and although we agreed that we weren’t actually together, there was kind of an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t see anybody else… Of course, I actually did begin seeing someone else... and as those things tend to work, my guilt somehow led me to be suspicious of her.

At the time, I was living in Baltimore with a friend. This roommate was also going through a nasty breakup of his own. We hadn’t really been getting along anyway, so I didn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve alone in the apartment with him. It would be too boring… Too awkward… Too depressing.

I was hoping to go out with my girlfriend that night despite all of the issues we were having. I don’t recall specifically, but perhaps I thought that spending a special New Year’s together would help fix things… Those plans were nixed howeber, when she told me she was staying home to watch her sister’s kids.

Again, it’s important to keep in mind that I had been growing very suspicious… I had been checking her cell phone whenever she wasn’t looking. Asking and re-asking the same questions to try and catch her in a lie. Calling at odd hours to see how she reacted. I was insane.

I did find some evidence to suggest that maybe something was going on... but with all the crap going through my head, I couldn't really be sure if my suspicions were valid or if my guilty conscience was playing with my head.

On the day before New Year’s Eve she told me she needed to get her hair done. I gave her money to do it, but my immediate reaction was to ask myself: “Why does she need to get her hair done if she’s not going out?”

It ate at me the next two days. I asked her over and over again if she was sure she wasn’t going out… she repeatedly assured me that she would be at home watching her sister's kids. She couldn’t go out, and I was going to have to be on my own for New Year’s.

So there I was, out of options, no where to go, drinking in my apartment with my depressed roommate... This was exactly where I didn’t want to be… and of course, I was still wondering about my girl friend. I kept playing over the scenario of things that had been happening between us over and over agan. Each time I did this, I kept coming back to the same conclusion:

“She just got her hair done, of course she’s going out!”

I decided I had to know for sure. I convinced my roommate to go with me. It was about an hour drive and we were already half drunk. When we got there, her car was no where to be found. I finally had my answer; she had lied.

But now that wasn't enough. I suddenly felt the need to actually find her. We drove around the streets of DC, going from club to club, in search of her car. At some point we stopped at a liquor store. We kept drinking. We kept looking. We kept drinking. We kept looking... We found nothing.

During the search, my roommate --a notorious drunk dialer-- decided he needed to call his ex, the girl who had just dumped him. I was too caught up in my own madness to talk him out of it. Predictably, the call didn’t go well and he started crying... This only made me angrier.

So there we were, driving around DC. I was drunk and angry. He was drunk and emotional. And to make matters worse, he tells me he needs to puke. I ended up pulling over into some dark parking lot where he spent 15 minutes throwing up as he wept.

I decided to take him home… Another hour long drive back to Baltimore. The clock struck midnight just as we were pulling into the parking lot of our apartment building.

Happy New Year!

I should have just crashed in my bed and slept it off, but I was still angry. I let him out of the car and turned back around… another hour long drive back to DC. The new plan was to wait outside my girlfriend’s house to see her come home and confront her.

I sat in my car across the street like some sort of pyscho and I waited… and waited… and waited… My drunkenness was starting to wear off and I could feel the hangover setting in. Finally, just as I was about to fall asleep, she came home.

My heart was racing. As she got out of her car I crossed the street with a purpose. The adrenaline had me re-focused and sober. I don’t remember how I confronted her. Did she see me walking over? Did I walk up behind her and grab her arm? Did I yell something to make her turn around and see me? All I remember is that she was shocked.

At first she tried to give me some lame excuse about going to drop her sister’s kids off, but she was all dressed up, she smelled like alcohol… and of course, her hair looked great!

Then, as if out of some sort of movie, she opened her car door to get her purse and a beer bottle fell out of the car and rolled onto the driveway. Despite the circumstances I had honestly been trying to keep my calm during this confrontation, but that set me off. The beer bottle had actually rolled right to my feet... I picked it up, stared at it for a second, (it was an un-opened Heineken, still cold) and then threw it back down onto the driveway as hard as I could. With a dull pop, it shattered spraying glass and beer all over the leg of my jeans.

I looked up at her… she was afraid to speak… clutching the purse in her hands… My eyes focused on the purse. For whatever reason, I thought there might be some evidence of her indiscretion inside. I wanted desperately to search through the purses contents for some sort of smoking gun clue of another guy… A phone number, condoms, a picture, a letter, anything… Instinctively, I snatched the purse from her hands.

When I did that, she started screaming expletives. This only seemed to confirm my suspicions that there was something she didn’t want me to find in the bag. At that point I did what any rational human being would have done... I ran away with the purse!

With her still screaming obscenities at me I got back to my car and sped away. And of course, since she was just as crazy as I was, she chased me in her car.

The sun was just beginning to come up and luckily there were no cars on the road as we sped through red lights. I began to rummage through the purse as I drove and she followed close behind… There was nothing to find… Of course that didn’t mean that she hadn’t cheated, just that I couldn’t prove it.

Frustrated and worried that some cop would see us in our high speed pursuit, I finally decided to pull into a gas station and give up. She pulled in behind me. As she approached the car I noticed, once again, how nice her hair looked... I paid for that hair… So she could go out… And probably with some other guy…

I reached back into the purse one last time and grabbed the cash…$80. Not quite the amount I had paid for her hair to get done, but close enough. I rolled down the window and threw the purse at her. It landed at her feet and I’m sure she yelled a few more choice words at me as I pulled off.

A minute later I was back on the highway for one last hour long drive back to Baltimore.

I don’t remember how long it took before we spoke again, but I think it was only a couple of days later. Believe it or not we actually kept seeing each other for a couple weeks after that, but we both knew it was over. She refused to admit that she had gone out with another guy that night (or that she had gone out at all!) and I refused to admit I had swiped her $80.

The absurdity of the lies seemed to cancel each other out.

To recap the entire incident, I spent at least 4 hours traveling back and forth between Baltimore and DC, I drank way too much, I watched my roommate throw up, and cry, I confirmed that my girlfriend was just as devious as me, I ruined a pair of jeans, I stole a purse, and I had a high speed car chase… Even though I did recoup the extra $80, it was still by far the worst New Year of my life.

How about you guys? Have any New Year's horror stories?