The guy I was dating stopped by my apartment during this emotional crisis. 
When I didn't answer the door, he forced his way in.  He knew my history of
self-hatred and when he saw me in tears, he accurately predicted my plans.  He
told me that he loved me, needed me, and not to kill myself.  I told him that I
liked him but he was "full of shit."  Another dam of tears broke from my eyes
and couldn't I speak anymore.  Neither did he.  He simply whipped out a sheet
of paper, wrote the following note, and forced me read it.

"The logic of suicide: A syllogism

People who don't fuck are stupid.
People who commit suicide don't fuck.
Therefore, people who commit suicide are stupid."

In a failed effort to be "sensitive," he pointed out to me that I was
24-years-old and still a virgin.  Tenderly he said that he would support me in
my efforts to commit suicide.  He would help!  He was going to help me
kill myself!  I wanted to die, but I didn't want to die in solitude.  A smile
came to my face when I realized that he wasn't kidding -- he would help me kill
myself.  

 more [q=quit] 
               
Yet, there was one string attached.  He would assist, only if I would comply to
sleeping with him.  In a kind-sort-of way, he pointed out that if I didn't
sleep with him, he would foil my suicide efforts by telling my mother.  My life
then would become a living hell.  What a come-on line!  He trapped me.  If I
had sex with him, he would help me.  If I didn't have sex with him, he would
tell my mother who would then have me institutionalized in a psychiatric ward
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