Her JJ smelled like garlic and other deal breakers

This is a guest post from my friend Casey. Excellent writer, smart guy and obnoxiously good looking.

It was a perfect spring morning in Santa Barbara: a gentle sea breeze rustling the mini-blinds, sun light flickering on a far wall, birds, children playing the whole bit. But whoever ordered such an idyllic morning would have to enjoy by themselves; I wasn’t having mine. That’s about when the headache pierced my cranium and the bed began to rotate. I wondered what happened. I stirred. My roommate caught the movement and pounced. “Hah hah hah! You were so funny. You were really drunk…” Oh yeah. I vaguely recalled some sort of party at our apartment. There were some girls, green jello shots, a World Wrestling Federation style tickle fight which rendered the couches and other living room furnishings in a heap like you’d find at a yard sale, followed by girls wearing less clothing, a black light, someone pee’ed in a planter all set to the sounds of The Doors Greatest Hits. “Oh yeah.” That’s when it hit me. One of the last images I could remember was my roommate smooching one of the hottest girls on campus: “Jen.” Only it wasn’t on campus. It was in our living room after a 7.0 earthquake. He’d been flirting with her for weeks, at swimming class, in the dining commons, library and where ever else. She remained coy, blonde, tan, tall and sexy. This made my roommate all the more resolute. It was obvious that she liked him but she was playfully cautious, pretending to not be interested. Finally, there was our party and their flirting was consummated. My roommate regaled me with all the glorious details. They hooked up. Did I mention our apartment was a one bedroom studio-good times. Fortunately (or perhaps, unfortunately) I was totally unconscious. Later that day while eating soda crackers and muscling down Top Ramen, I asked my roommate what was next for him and “Jen.” Much to my surprise he answered, “Ah, her titties bugged.” He shrugged his shoulders and her out of his life. The chase was over, the fun was through.

Okay I have to break in here; I am the asshole guy in the story. Yes I said that, to my shame. I think Casey likes this story because it has given him fuel to laugh at me for years, me… I just feel embarrassed. Did Jen have strange boobs? I think her nipples were different than what I had seen before but of course now I would be fantastically fine with them!

So that was it. For my roommate the “deal breaker” was to be found in “Jen’s most unfortunate bosoms-whatever that was. I think at this point in his story I was hugging the toilet bowl.

What is it about “deal breakers.” It seems to me that everyone has those nagging little grievances that can pull the brakes on a new fling faster than Michael Vick can end his career.

But are “deal breakers” just a matter of fickleness?

About a decade ago, I dated a lovely girl who was once a co-worker. She was tall, graceful, and intelligent. I was rather content. For me, it wasn’t one of those slam, bam thank you ma’ams. I liked her and was willing to court her. Then, by about the third date (Halloween) party, I started to notice something peculiar: she smelled like broccoli! Figuring it was just left-over essence of her last meal, I over looked it. But it worked its way into my lizard brain. By the fourth date, I couldn’t stand it any more. I never could bring my self to kiss her and sex was definitely out of the question. Besides, I think she started to catch on when as a matter of pre-date protocol I kept asking her about her diet.

It reminds me of “Charlie” in the sleeper comedy, So I Married An Axe Murderer. “Charlie” is chatting with a male friend about why he “Charlie” keeps breaking up with seemingly perfect women. One “smelled exactly like onion soup” another was a “clepto.” Of course the audience knows early on that “Charlie” is just afraid of commitment. Sabotaging is a highly intricate defense mechanism used by both men and women. For me it’s almost always been an olfactory rejection. I’ve dumped good wholesome girls for smelling like, tacos, garlic, cigarettes and booze. (I know, talk about calling the kettle black). One girl always smelled like stale red wine. That gets old. It made me feel like I was kissing a trailer park grandma.

For me, back then, successful dating was like drag racing. Not only do you need charms, tricks and good looks to get off to a fast start but you need safeties to slow you down. “Deal breakers” were perfect parachutes. I never told the unsuspecting girls that they stunk. I was a champion of the fade method at first but later adopted the direct dump. “Deal breakers” were my private little proverbs to convince my rational brain that there is just cause in dumping this one and moving on to the next one. It’s like a kid, stuffing a wad of watermelon bubble gum in his mouth. It’s great while the flavor lasts but sooner or later it fades.

So, since “deal breakers” can be the most miniscule blemish on an otherwise sexy, intelligent, available girl/guy, it seems to me they speak more about the senders than the receivers. It takes experience and wisdom to overlook minor cracks mixed in with a lot of will and desire to push beyond life’s imperfections, especially in someone else. When we hang up on trivial little “deal breakers” I truly believe it is solid evidence that you are not ready for a relationship. If nose hair, gas, bad grammar, ghastly tattoos, clunker cars, weird odor, crooked teeth, boogers, obnoxious laugh, dingy air-headed voice and the like will send them packing, chances are you shouldn’t be looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend. God knows if we never outgrow trivial little “deal breakers” the likes of Fran Drescher (The Nanny) would never even get a date. She has a voice like a diamond cutting glass but a body like smoke on the water. Plus, she’s insanely rich!

What are your trivial little “deal breakers?”

-Casey Nicholson

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Tagged as: Bad breath, Deal breakers, JJ smelled