Deal breakers; those idiosyncratic details that thwart someone’s chance to be our potential lover. Major or minor; they have the power to move that prospective mate strictly into the friend zone. My sisters and I have our own onomatopoeic term for this; we refer to it as the eek factor. It’s that moment when your date/lover does something that makes you internally scream EEEEK. Something that makes you big time cringe. It causes your vagina to shrivel up and all hope of a serious relationship along with it.
I know it sounds harsh, but its true and I’ve got the war stories for proof.
My first eek moment occurred early on in my dating life, and resulted in a breakup the very next day.
Those of you who know me, know I have a vehement hatred of tomato sauce. Actually, it’s more of a phobia. I hate the smell, can’t stand the sight and won’t actually touch the sauce bottle or wash up any sauce covered plates. I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember.
So, Boyfriend X and I were having a romantic after school date in the park. We’d been to Wendy’s, I got a shake, he got a hotdog with sauce…. There we sat eating our respective snacks. I don’t know why he chose this moment, mid feast, to lean in and kiss me – but it was a disaster. He had a blob of sauce on the corner of his fucking mouth. It was too late for me to pull away - I got a very saucy kiss and not in a good way. It took every fibre of my being to stop myself vomiting into his mouth. I’d just endured my idea of hell; mouthraped by my most hated condiment. EEK! I couldn’t look at him the same, the spark had been quashed and I knew it was over.
I know, I’m a bitch.
The next time I felt the eek factor I was sitting on the bus with my dishevelled, wannabe rock star boyfriend. He had the window seat and was sleeping with his head pressed against the window. I was sitting – admiring his boyish good looks; his long eyelashes and pronounced brow which was furrowed ever so slightly. We hit a pot hole and he was jolted from his blissful slumber; he yawned, straightened himself up and made a witty quip about the bus driver’s skill level. As I laughed I glanced over to the window where his head had been resting, and there I saw it, a giant grease mark.
All I could think of was that episode of the Simpsons where Dr Nick shows Homer the window to weight gain by rubbing a piece of fried chicken on a piece of paper. The grease immediately turns it clear. I’d noticed his greasy locks before and I wasn’t a fan. I hated the smell and the look. But in this very public display of oil, the grease had become a visible, tangible thing. It was there on the window for all to see. EEK!
Deal breaker three; long fingernails. This is a hard one as I've dated a lot of musicians who claim lengthy talons are integral when playing acoustic guitar. I’ll pay that, but I’m just going to put it out there; they’re not so conducive when playing with lady bits. I think it’s kind of polite and a mark of respect to cut your claws as a guy. Also, I feel like long nails are a little effeminate – just not my vibe.
I should’ve prefaced this post by saying these things are, of course, highly subjective. Down to personal taste and preference. I’ve rattled off a list of my turn-offs – and I’m sure I inherit a set of my own deal breakers which are as equally irking.
Also, having that big time love puts things into perspective. I think about Ollie kissing me with sauce covered lips and while it would be totally heinous, it wouldn’t kill my love for him. Which makes me think maybe the eek comes in when you’re looking for an out. The chemistry is already gone and you’re looking for a reason to jump ship. Maybe the eek helps validate your feelings, and stop you feeling guilty for the love lost – à la they did XYZ I can’t possibly be with them.
And maybe the eeks stop once you find the one because all of a sudden that trivial shit doesn’t really matter.