That's a Deal Breaker

There is just one bad habit I absolutely cannot abide-

Dip.

Men, if this is what you do, then I do not ever, under any circumstances, want to have sexual relations with you, kiss you, be in the same room with you, or look at you. I don't want to touch you. I don't want to handle anything you have touched. I do not want to go into your personal space for fear of finding your spit bottle. DO NOT tell me it isn't that bad- you are shoving a big wad of worm dirt in your mouth. It looks nasty in the can and it looks even worse after it comes in contact with your saliva. And no, dammit to hell, it DOES NOT SMELL GOOD. I don't care if the label says wintergreen, dip stinks. Period.

I don't care if you brushed your teeth. You're nasty. You are slowly rotting away your mouth, teeth, tongue, and throat. And why, oh why can't you throw. out. the. damn. spit. BOTTLE! Why do you toss it under the truck seat?! Do you think it is funny when that nasty glob of plastic encased spit rolls under my feet? I am so not amused.

My Papa used to dip. He loved to walk up to us girls and say he had 'chocolate bubble gum'. He'd open his mouth wide to show us that disgusting wad of tobacco with brown spittle running from his lips and we'd all run screaming to our mothers and our mamas would scream, too. My Granny used to get on to Papa, but he didn't pay her any mind. He'd chortle and at the next family event he'd do it again. I do not ever remember giving Papa hugs or kisses. He died when I was 22. In two decades I showed him no affection because I thought my grandfather was gross! How sad is that? None of us would sit in his chair because of his spit can. He kept an empty family sized can of tomatoes lined with paper towels on the floor next to his recliner. He'd spit in it, or towards it, when he watched television. After the can became full, which took forty forevers because first the can was so big and second because Papa was rarely in the house, Granny would throw the can out, then scrub the wall and floor. Maybe four times a year the mess got cleaned up. The rest of the time it was not safe to sit in front of the tv because you might grab the chair arm to lean back and find a greasy bit of dip. Worse would be dropping the remote and hearing the splatter. Hope you like whatever show is on because nobody is fishing the remote out of the spit can.

I can handle smoke. You like cigarettes? Okay. Cigars? Fine. I can't deal with a pipe because the smell is more intense and gives me a headache, but nobody really smokes a pipe anymore. Even a pipe induced headache is better than dip. I can handle an ashtray overflowing with stale cigarette butts. Know why? The ashtray isn't covered with unnaturally dark body fluids! And the older the spit bottle, the BLACKER it is, like some awful, rapid growing black mold producing spores in its ideal environment.

:Gag:

Sorry, dry heaves.

So, men, just be perfectly clear-

I don't care if you are a multimillionaire, have a house on the beach, have an ass tight enough to bounce a quarter on, and have a romantic streak a mile wide, if you dip you are a pathetic loser and I won't give you the time of day.

Ick.