My boyfriend of 9 years had horrible credit, and so, I always got our car loans. He decided at one point that what he really needed was an expensive, enormous truck. It was hunter green with a leather interior, over the top and ridiculous. But he wanted it and I was a doormat, so I co-signed on his 6 year loan.

Fast forward three years later and we've broken up and I've moved out. I was paying off credit card debt we'd accrued together and a student loan, so imagine my horror and surprise when he calls me and tells me he's been fired and he can't keep the truck. I ended up with his truck, the enormous truck payment and it took me a year and a half to sell it. But it has been a valuable lesson to me to live within my means - I'm now debt free and driving a tiny, fuel efficient Honda, and I love it.

He moved in with me, it was an up and down relationship. One day out of the blue, he asked me to marry him. I said I wasnt sure, but we went shopping for rings for me. Shortly after that he left, knowing that I couldn't commit.

It was our first big purchase together - a double papasan chair. And it was totally comfortable... for like a week. Who designed this torture device? I ended up with the thing after we split up, still not sure why.

My new roommate and I tried in vain to make it more comfortable, lining the bottom with foam pads but to no avail. It wasn't so much that it was a painful reminder of a past relationship - it was just painful.

Yes, that's tats not cats! He's allergic to my cats. My tats are 14 years apart and he fathered both of them. We were split up for ten years. Got together again and bam, I've been inked again! He has refused to pay child support! He also has two, both we got together, but I'm sure he doesn't see them the same way. My Tats names are Rubens and Zelda, his are Opus and Otis.

Ok, here is the question... what does one do with the photo albums you made together? Especially if there is a new man in your life now and this time you know its for keeps? I have 4 photo albums, made over 6 years of my life, hidden on the top shelf of the wardrobe.

I was 20 years old and living with my girlfriend, Heather, who decided she wanted to get a kitten. I thought about it for a millisecond and said, "No way, I don't want the responsibility." The next day we brought home Zoe -- a very sweet, cute and cuddly kitten. But, Zoe was Heather's cat, not mine.

Fast forward a few years. We're broken up, but somehow we've arranged for shared cat-custody. Not that I wanted Zoe to stay with me, but I was willing to take her while Heather visited her folks for Christmas, toured around Europe, or whatever. A few weeks here, a month there, I could handle the responsibility for awhile. But, Zoe was Heather's cat, not mine.

Enter new boyfriend, Rob. "Rob's allergic to cats. Would you take Zoe?" I knew this could turn into a long-term situation, so I said no. Despite his allergies, the three of them moved in together. Things are going well, they get engaged, they start nesting, and they buy some very nice leather furniture. My phone rings. It's Heather. "You have to come get Zoe right now! Rob is on his way home from work..." (BTW, Rob's a cop... a cop with a gun) "... and Zoe clawed his favorite leather chair. He's going to kill her."

Like any good, spineless, ex-boyfriend, SPCA-Volunteer would, I rescued Zoe from the wrath of Rob... 16 years ago. At 19 years old, Zoe outlasted several of my relationships, survived puking into my CRT computer monitor without getting electrocuted, healed from the self-inflicted pencil puncture, and even bossed around my 100 pound German Shepherd. Nine lives? Hell, this cat made a feline-pact with the Devil! I ask myself daily, "how much longer can she live?" She doesn't age! No disease, no feline leukemia, no gingivitis, not even a urinary tract infection! Heather gets her man and fancy leather furniture, and I get Heather's mother's boyfriend's awful rattan furniture (long story) and Zoe.