“Three-pack-a-day voice”

manners sex

We were making out, and suddenly we had to stop. He looked over at me and said in that stupid, gruff, three-pack-a-day voice of his, “I wish we had more time—and a condom.” We had barely been dating three days.


Aftermath: I broke up with him probably two days later. (He sucked at kissing too.)

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“Is that the bad guy?”

best of manners

While watching the last “Lord of the Rings” movie, he spent the entire movie whispering to me like an old woman, “Who is that? What are they doing? Is that the bad guy? Where are they going now?“


Aftermath: This made it easy to pull the plug.

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“Prettied down”


I knew it was over when I got all gussied up and he told me I was dressed too nicely for the theater. I should put back on my t-shirt and jeans. Fuck that noise.


Aftermath: I packed a truck with all of my books and clothes and moved to Chicago the next day.

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“My shirt was off”

best of manners

She was rubbing my shoulders. My shirt was off, allowing me to feel the warm exhale of her belch before I nosed the cloud of cheeseburger and Clamato gas that engulfed me. She said nothing and kept humming as if nothing had happened.


Aftermath: It was long distance already, making it easy enough to just quit.


“Blew his nose”


At the end of dinner at a high-end restaurant, he blew his nose into a cloth napkin.


Aftermath: That was it. Gross.