An Incomplete List of Dealbreakers
The old adage says, “Love is unconditional.” This is bullshit. My love comes with a fuckload of conditions.
Here is an abridged, incomplete, off-the-top-of-my-head-while-I-sit-in-Starbucks list of dealbreakers in any relationship:
–You don’t get along with my buddies. There must be peace in the realm. They were here first.
–You can’t at least tolerate my music taste. Bruce Springsteen is awesome. So is Arcade Fire. Learn to love ‘em.
–You have bedbugs. I’ve had my shit treated, like, three times. Getting rid of them is a fucking task. First, you have to put all of your stuff in garbage bags, then the most sardonic exterminator in the universe comes to your home to spray everything you own with enough chemicals to slay even the mightiest of Charlie Sheens. Then you have to live like this for another three weeks before the same asshole comes back and does it all over again. I’m not going through all that (again) just because you can’t cough up the 30 bucks for a plastic sheet.
–You don’t think gay people should get be allowed to get married. I got a ton of LGBT friends, yo. You best be on that equality train.
–You don’t laugh at my jokes. I’m funny, dammit! Validate me!
–I say I like you, and you don’t like me back.
–You talk during Springsteen concerts. Or try to get me to do something that isn’t engaging with the mad tunage. IT’S FUCKING BOSS TIME NO I WILL NOT GO GET YOU A PRETZEL.
–You don’t get along with my mother (who I know is reading this and nodding her head vociferously. Hi Mom!). This is another one of those peace in the realm things, and she most certainly ain’t going anywhere.
-You don’t find me yelling at the television during sporting events as if the people on the screen can hear me charming. This is not just a me thing. I know lots of people who do this. The Jets deserve it. No, you’re the crazy one.
–You talk during Game of Thrones. This is the most important part of my week. I will not have it ruined because you can’t remember what the hell Littlefinger is doing (nobody knows what Littlefinger is doing. Except bookreaders. SHH NO SPOILERS.)
–You cheat. Bye.
–You cheat with my best friend. Super bye.
-You cheat with my brother. Weird. And bye.
–You don’t come to my shows/gigs/read my articles/important thing I worked on. Everything I touch is gold. Indulge me.
-You don’t get along with my roommate. My roommate is currently dating a great girl. She and I are actually friends. If we hated each other, our space would be a place of great rancor. Or, in other words, there would be no peace in the realm. I’m not subjecting my roommate (or, if I’m being honest, his girlfriend) to that. We chill hard. Don’t fuck that up for us.
-We’ve been dating a long time, and it’s not bad per se, but that old spark is definitely gone, and maybe we’re starting to get a bit bitter in life because we worry we may be wasting our youth on each other and the other person may not be “the one,” but what even does “the one” mean, yeah? So we try to put in the effort, try to go out of our way to do nice things for each other, and everything seems good for a moment, you know, because nice nights are nice, and it feels good to have a person to do stuff like go out to dinners and concerts with, but the next morning we’re back to feeling empty inside, but I won’t break up with you because that would take a lot of energy and I feel like I’ve committed, and breaking up feels like giving up, and shit no, I’m no quitter, but you know that something is irrevocably broken, that our admittedly noble attempts to salvage this thing are, as Pete Campbell once said, a “temporary bandage over a permanent wound,” so you sit me down one day, take a deep breath, and say “Jon, I really don’t think this is working, it’s time we start seeing other people.”
-You’re the type of person who, while watching a movie, finishes a line in a movie before the character finishes the line, even though some people in the room have never seen the movie. That shit is so aggravating.
-You say you’re gonna clean a dish, you even bring it over to the sink and use a sponge, and dry it and put it on the rack, but later I go to put it away and it’s still dirty. Nothing is worse than cleaning dishes. Nothing. There is no greater disappointment in life than believing that I’m not going to have to clean a plate because this person I thought I could trust, that I could rely on, says they are going to do it, and then they let me down. Don’t do this to me. I don’t think my fragile heart can take it.
-You find me to be an arrogant, narcissistic, prick who writes masturbatory, philosophical diatribes on the internet about love and romance like he has it all figured out even though he’s 22 years old and can barely boil a pot of water without shitting himself. Oops.
-You don’t like chocolate. Seriously, who doesn’t like chocolate?