I once dumped a guy because he was bald. Yes, he was bald when I started dating him, but it was like one day I woke up and went,“Omigosh, what’s-his-name is bald! And I don’t like bald guys!” He also had a beard and mustache, and I decided that I didn’t like beards and mustaches either.
Well, in my defense, I had only just started dating, so I was only just starting to figure out what I liked and didn’t like in a guy. I was 18. I was much younger than this guy. In fact, he was the director of my summer camp. When he told me, after we had started dating, that he’d had his eye on me for a couple of years in succession, that grossed me out. I thought to myself, “You perv.”
He also asked me to marry him after we had been dating only like two weeks, and promised me a blissful life as his ever-pregnant wife in a trailer (I kid you not), beacuse that would be all we could afford as he finished his Doctoral degree.
This one SO had a habit of being amazed by “coincidences” in numbers (deeeply into numerology). It’s harmless enough, and I just ignored it, but one day a friend refused to be amazed that we all had names that “added and remaindered” to the same single digit. “What’s so great about that? The odds are that 1 in 10 people will have the same single digit as you. And 1 in 100 that 3 people will have the same digit.” I sided with the friend and broke it off right there. Never saw either of them after that week.
Ok, when I started reading this thread, I knew I had to add my two cents.
I was going out with a great guy, successful, attractive, funny, etc… “everything a woman could want”. Promised me the sun, the moon, the whole shebang. The problem? His use of the phrase “chaps my ass” I heard that sooooo many times that finally, I just couldn’t hack it. I made up a lame excuse, and that was that.
i was casually seeing this extremely attractive girl in high school who shared interests with me (she was a violist) and was alot of fun to hang out with. i stopped calling her after she came over dressed in a schoolgirl outfit. she had the thigh high white stockings, the plaid miniskirt, and (cue seinfeldian moment) an off-white shirt…sigh. i tried to ignore it, but i ended up taking her home after a very uncomfortable hour.
Yes, amati, what was the problem? You took her home because the shirt was off-white instead of white? Or was it that the shirt didn’t match the stockings?
If there’s a natural end-point for this thread, where the most trivial hangup closes it, you’re looking like a strong contender.
i actually did see her not too long ago, and she was wearing normal clothes looking very good. i set up a date with her for that weekend then went and saw my best friend. the look on his face when i told him that i was going out with her that weekend was classic, it turns out he also had a date with her the same day. needless to say, we both cancelled, we are the ones who are supposed to be playing her, not the other way around dammit.
about why it turned me off, i guess it was both that it was the off white shirt didn’t match the white stockings and the schoolgirl outfit’s shirt should be white-white.
i gotta tell you, i joined the message board because i just had to share that story, but i didn’t expect to be the most petty.
It’s cool, amati. It’s just that I love that look so much on myself (and on other girls!) that I was hard put to figure out how that could be a turn-off. But different strokes, as they say.
i may have topped myself here. i started a heavy flirting routine with a very attractive girl (red hair, athletic build, smart, talented (a fellow violinist)). everything was going extremely well, she showed alot of interest in me. everything WAS going well, that is, until she said it. she called me a “stinker” as in, “you little stinker!” i realize, of course, that i am absolutely ridiculous but, i am completly turned off. i can’t help it. and i’m always complaining that i don’t have a girlfriend…
I once ended it with a guy because of a conversation we had. We were both around 14 years old and he was talking about masturbation, and how he had a towel underneath his bed to clean up any, erm, mess. Poor, shy little me bravely tried to continue the conversation: “Oh. You mean like a hand-towel or something?” And Josh gave me this funny look. “Of course not - it’s a bath towel. Means I don’t have to wash it as often.” :eek:
But that ole Mr. Robinson from my summer camp… bleah!