Wrecked, that is, by your association between the thing itself and some unpleasant person who appreciates that thing.
For me, there’s opera and my ex-wife. As an open-minded appreciator of art, I might enjoy opera, except that she-with-her-pinky-in-the-air-sipping-tea was an Opera Buff, and prattled on about opera minutia such that I can’t even contemplate listening to it without conjuring up the unwelcome image of her and her gushing joy, so I don’t even bother trying.
Or the former friend who became a master chef in mid-life, and fed me many a meal that he explained in excruciating detail–since our falling out, I’ve been unable to endure much high cuisine because I associate it with him.
Or the other former friend who loved movies by Sam Peckinpaugh. I was always tolerant of Peckinpaugh, but now I’l pass on buying a videotape of some film of his I haven’t seen because I don’t want to be wondering what my former friend might have to say about this scene or this motif.
These are all people I choose not to think about if I can help it–and truth to tell, I don’t really have all that much room for opera or high cuisine or Sam Peckinpaugh films in my life–but I wonder how much others share my trait of avoiding things because of their associations with people they’d rather not devote one extra thought to.