My boyfriend would regularly and gleefully make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for random homeless drug addicts but wouldn’t make me breakfast–or lunch or dinner for that matter–without a huge fight.


Aftermath: Oddly, he would get angry with me if I made myself food and didn’t share it with him. We lasted a torturous two years.

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On our second date, after we went to a movie, he said, “Let’s get a 12-pack and head back to my place.” How subtle can you be?


Aftermath: That was our last date. I went back to my old boyfriend and married him.

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best of manners

He introduced me to his best friends, one was a guy and one was a girl. I knew it was over when we were all out to eat and he was hardcore flirting with his best girlfriend and she fed him strawberries at the table. Right in front of me.

—Oh No She Didn’t

Aftermath: He ignored me in public for the next two days and after instigating a conversation, he wrote via text message, “It’s not you it’s me” and “I hope we can still be friends.” We aren’t on speaking terms anymore.

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“White ball of flame”

best of manners

I knew it was over on our second date when he threw his legs over his shoulders and proudly lit a thunderous fart on fire with a lighter.


Aftermath: Ended shortly thereafter, for obvious reasons. The white ball of flame was impressive, though.

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best of manners

He kept climbing up on things. We’d go to a bar and he’d climb on the pool table or the bar or whatever else and perch on it. I think he thought it made him interesting, but it really just made him look like a tool.


Aftermath: He started wearing black eyeliner right around the same time I stopped returning his calls.

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