Fortunately for me now I'm a married lady, happy, but before these days I used to run with a rather...er....questionable bunch of dealers, and one that I used to be involved with (this is a while ago), constantly got arrested for a variety of things, usually for selling, or gun possession, and of course the occasional assault and battery. But between us, the sex was amazing, it was that kind of "oh my god the sex is like heroin I'll do anything to keep it from....stopping", so I constantly bailed this guy out. 

The final straw essentially and the biggest thing I did, was basically take three subways to his brother's house in Flatbush BK, and drive the car that they were searching for, to a chop shop in The Bronx, so that no trace of the car could be found (as they were using this to transport pounds of weed and coke and crack). So at 2 am one very cold NYC evening, I did just that. Two subway rides and three bus rides later, I went to his father's house, got the keys, took off the plates, drove it to the Bronx, where it was made into shrapnel, got in a taxi and prayed for my life. Decided that two days later, I'd kind of had enough and broke it off. Thank heavens, no one ever traced any of this back to me, but the dude couldn't stay out of trouble and he was put in Rikers for about four months before being deported.

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Shortly after I graduated from college I found myself living in Allston with six roommates, several cats, a part-time blogging job and no romantic prospects on the horizon. So when I met an incredibly good looking guy at a party, I didn't waste any time trying to get him to notice me. Turns out, he was a budding tattoo artist—though I use that term very loosely in this case. Thinking we might fall in love, I decided to ask him to tattoo my ankle. This was a massive mistake. Though I asked for a star, the result looks like a cross between a Dorito and a slice of pizza. We never dated, but I'll always remember him fondly as the man who immortalized my love for junk food in the form of a blurry, wavy, thoroughly unimpressive tattoo. 

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I was monogamous all through college, I think that qualifies as an insane thing to do for love. Also, I've voluntarily watched hundreds of hours of soccer, despite having no interest in the game, with college boyfriend while he got drunk and yelled at the tv, sometimes at 8 in the morning on a Saturday. That's crazy right?