(I’m a regular at a coffee shop where I usually stop in after work to grab a drink and relax a little before heading home. Another regular who comes in slightly less often is a guy who slurps. A lot. Instead of waiting for his drink to cool down, he’ll open it up piping hot, slurp loudly off the rim, and after each sip make a loud exhale like he’s letting the heat out. He’ll do that until he finishes the whole drink, without pause. I’ve learned to always bring earphones and music. One evening he’s in there, slurping away, when a woman comes in and joins him at his table. They make small talk for a couple of minutes, and it’s pretty quiet in the shop so it’s not hard to hear them. Yes, I turn my music off and eavesdrop.)

Woman: “Hey, so…” *big sigh* “It’s been really nice getting to know you, and you’ve been really great, but I don’t think we should date anymore.”

Slurper: “Whoa, what? Why? What happened?”

Woman: “Well… honestly… I’ve found a behavior of yours that I just can’t appreciate or tolerate. In any way.”

Slurper: “I… Like what?”

Woman: *pause* “You slurp anything hot. Like your drink right now.”

Slurper: *after a long pause, chuckles* “Come on. You can’t be serious.”

Woman: “I am serious. I haven’t brought it up until now because it seemed petty and shallow, so I tried to just get over it. But then I thought about it and realized that anything that irritates me and grates at my ears to the point I want to punch you in the face isn’t petty or shallow at all. It’s a serious problem.”

Slurper: *still trying to play it off like it’s all a joke* “Okay, sure. You’re really going to break up with me for slurping a little bit when I drink. I mean, the drink’s hot! How else am I supposed to drink it?”

Woman: “With basic table manners every child learns. You could wait for it to cool down or blow on it to help, but then I’ve already told you this a dozen times, right? Look, I’m not asking you to change. I mean, I already have and you haven’t listened, and asking over and over is too exhausting. The bottom line is that I can’t date someone whose face I occasionally want to punch, no matter the reason why, and you shouldn’t want to date someone like that, either. It wouldn’t be right for either of us.”

Slurper: *starting to realize she is, in fact, serious* “You’re really breaking up with me over this.”

Woman: “Well, it’s not exactly a ‘break up.’ We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months. It’s not like we’re in a full relationship. That’s why I thought it best to do this now, before there was any more, you know, involvement or commitment.”

Slurper: *clearly didn’t see it that way, honestly looks sad* “I… I can’t believe this.”

Woman: “I’m sorry… It’s not that you’re not great overall. We’re just not the right fit for each other. I hope you find someone who can be happy with all of you, slurping habit included. You do deserve that.”

(The woman looked like she felt really bad, and the guy looked halfway stunned, halfway crushed. After an awkward moment, she said goodbye to him and left, and I silently applauded her on her way out. As someone who will have to keep dealing with his slurping, I hope he takes the cue to work on his table manners. Let this be a lesson to all of us: the little habits we build will absolutely affect our lives in the long run. Build good habits and good manners, kids!)

(This guy and I have been flirting back and forth for a bit and we decide to go see a play. This story takes place in the middle of the performance. Mind you, it’s NOT intermission but during the performance. I’m silently watching the show and suddenly feel something on my leg.)

Guy: “Hey, psst.”

Me: *whispers without looking away* “Yes?”

Guy: “You want a PEZ?”

Me: *shocked* “What?!”

Guy: “You. Want. A. PEZ?”

Me: *looking down at the PEZ dispenser on my leg* “Is that BB-8?!”

Guy: “Yeah. It’s orange flavor.”

(I then proceeded to laugh through the next song. At intermission, I told my friend who told me he may have gotten the idea from “Seinfeld.”)

(In my early 20s, my best friend decides I should date her boyfriend’s roommate. We have seen each other at group gatherings, or whenever I go see my best friend at her place. I don’t think we are a good match, so I kind of just ignore the subtle pushing until my best friend decides to have a straightforward discussion about it.)

Best Friend: “Why don’t you try dating [Boyfriend’s Roommate]?

Me: “I don’t think we have anything in common, really. I don’t see us be anything, even as friends on our own I’m not sure…”

Best Friend: “Don’t say that; you both play [music instrument]!”  

Me: “Yeah, but I believe that’s where it stops. Otherwise, what hobbies does he have? Going to see strippers?”

Best Friend: “Oh, I’m sure that he’d stop going if he had a girlfriend.”

Me: “I’m not so sure about that.”

(I don’t want to start a debate about this kind of industry. I also don’t want to have to explain how starting a relationship with someone on the hope I’ll make the guy change is a terrible idea. People don’t change, seriously.)

Me: “Also, the only other thing I have seen him do or talk about is smoking weed.” *not legal at that time* “Which, you know, I’m no crusader against, but I still disapprove of recreational drug use.”

Best Friend: “You have to cut him some slack; he can’t drink alcohol.”

Me: “Well… I may drink a glass here and there, but I’m no big fan either. I just can’t see myself having to skirt around my own boyfriend whenever he’s under influence, or have me withdraw all the time for his habits.”

Best Friend: “Don’t be like that; he has some good points, too! Like, he’s still a gentleman and strives for higher education lately.”

Me: “He called me a witch when I said a three-syllable word!”

(Thankfully, she stopped there and so did the date pushing.)

(When my grandfather was in high school, he and one of his friends made a bet to see who could take more girls on dates in one month. They both ended up taking out a lot of girls in a short amount of time, and something was bound to blow up in their faces. One day my grandfather and several of his friends are messing around on the boardwalk and they meet up with a girl my grandfather knows vaguely from school. She joins the group and spends over half the day with them. After they’ve been hanging out for a few hours, she turns to my grandfather.)

Girl: “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Grandfather: “Um… not really.”

Girl: “You’re supposed to be picking me up in half an hour.”

(He was very lucky that the girl thought the whole thing was hilarious and wasn’t offended that the guy who was supposed to be taking her out on a date didn’t recognize her.)

(I am having lunch with a colleague and we’ve been talking about our plans for the weekend. I mentioned someone is cooking dinner for me, and my colleague has guessed it’s a date. She’s trying to get information out of me about the person — particularly how we met — and I’m reluctant to share. I’m female and also prone to getting into weird accidents.)

Colleague: “You know, if you made something up, I wouldn’t be this interested.”

Me: “I realise this in hindsight.”

Colleague: “I’m just going to guess.”

Me: *sensing she’s not being entirely serious* “That’s fine.”

Colleague: “Okay. He’s got a criminal record.”

Me: “I don’t think so. Hasn’t come up.”

Colleague: “Darn, okay. Um. He saved you from wild dogs and that’s how you met?”

Me: “Nope.”

Colleague: “He got into a drunk fight with someone and you’re a bit embarrassed about it.”

Me: “Also no.”

Colleague: “You saved him from wild dogs and–”

Me: “Where did wild dogs come from? What do you think I do in my spare time?”

Colleague: “You lead an interesting life.”

Me: “Not that interesting!”

Colleague: “You really don’t want to say? It can’t be that bad, you know.”

(I weigh it up. I really like this colleague and trust her so I decide to go for it)

Me: “If I tell you, promise you’ll keep it to yourself for now?”

Colleague: “Yes, sure.”

Me: “I’m dating a woman.”

Colleague: “That actually was going to be my next guess.”

(In fairness, I’d assumed until meeting that person that I was straight — and am now coming to terms with my identity — so it isn’t that obvious a thing for her to guess. But I do still have one question…)

Me: “Out of interest, assuming you were asking in order of most to least likely, why was fighting wild dogs more likely than me turning out not to be entirely straight?”

Colleague: “I can just really picture that happening to you.”