He was handsome, witty, a trifle brooding (but in a sexy poetic-artist-INFP kind of way,) had a killer body and looked great in a suit. Women loved him and men wanted to BE him.
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But he smelled like Garlic.
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That would be a deal breaker.
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Miracle Whip matters not to me, but in the Sunday Morning Muse yesterday, I got to thinking about what other things at this stage in my life would be the one specific detail, or perhaps idiosyncracy- which would trigger the dreaded deal breaker reflex.
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I love men who have hobbies and interests, but being a fanatic is deal breaker. It's true for all different things...no religious fanatics, no Elvis shrine in the house, no super health food fanatics, etc. Basketball springs to mind simply because it is March Madness. Go ahead, do a bracket. That's cool. It's betting. Just like I bet the "over and under" of the latest snowfall because I'm THAT bored this winter. But.... I hate basketball, and I will not spend precious moments of life watching it. Been there, done that. So if you have to watch every game for a whole month...that is a deal breaker.
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If you have any of Charlie Sheen's Tiger blood in you, it's a deal breaker. Drug use, drinking, multiple women... forget it. Put smoking on that list too. I don't smoke, and I'm to the point now where I don't think smoking is "cool." I don't want to live with smoke, smell like smoke, or die from second hand smoke. Deal breaker.
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Being boring is a deal breaker, too. I at least want someone who can hold their own in a conversation, are interested in the news, and have some ideas about life other than wondering what is on TV tonight.
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But...and here it comes. The number one deal breaker for me is BAD TASTE IN MUSIC. I know that is subjective thing, but I know what I like. I will not tolerate Michael Bolton, Toby Keith or the Insane Clown Posse. And that's just for starters. So expect the first conversation to be about music. Music tells me more than anything about someone's soul.
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