There are times when the person you have your arm wrapped around is just asking for it. Let’s take a look at those times.
You said lightly toasted. And you got heavily toasted. If the person you’re dating can’t follow simple instructions for how to operate the basic functions on a toaster, it’s definitely time to send them to a place where there are no toasters and no baked goods to put inside the toasters. Lightly toasted equals warm, slighty crunchy on the outside, soft goodness on the inside. Heavily toasted means hard, cardboard crunch. I could not imagine sharing a life with someone who could not comprehend the importance of these distinctions. I could not imagine letting someone live who did not appreciate these distinctions.
Her bra doesn’t match her panties or his boxers don’t match his socks. What?! Excuse me! But how are you expected to feel attracted to someone who cannot fulfill rock-bottom criteria of organized society? Your undergarments better match or else!! Anyone who fails to be able to dress him or herself in a way that does not indicate that they have a raging, fractured personality, is obviously a danger to the world at large and YOU, reader, are doing everyone a favor—from the littlest grandma, to the red-haired T-ball players in Wisconsin—when you push the degenerate off now.
S/he knows the words to any Bryan Adams song. And sings along in the car. That is just inexcusable. This person has such bad taste, you should check under their bed to see if he or she is hiding a collection of vomit in canning jars with dates and adjectives labeled on the glass, like, “March 17th: Peachy. July 5th: Robust. Furthermore, anyone who sings along inside of an automobile clearly has no sense of the requisite concentration needed when driving and is more than happy to put their own life and the life of any reluctant passenger in danger. Better to knock this sociopath off the roof of a building before you go flying through their windshield. Amen.
You found a dog-eared, faded stuffed animal in his/her room. Sick. Perverted. If you’re a coward, you’ll call the cops immediately. If you have hero’s blood running through your veins, you’ll push the diseased child-killer off the roof of the highest building in your town immediately. Anyone who has an old stuffed animal in their room probably pried it from the cold dead hands of child they offed years ago. Sure, they might offer paltry excuses like, “This is Mr. Mumbles; I’ve had him since I was a kid.” Please. Disgusting. The world needs less baby-killers and more people of action, damn it.