Chandler of Friends had dating issues over women with big heads. Grace from Will & Grace couldn't date men with bad feet, especially the one with a sixth toe. Stupid dating deal breakers aren't just the fodder of sitcoms. It's real life. Everyone active in the single scene has a list of dating deal breakers - admittedly some are pettier than others; some a little more crazy; but all are logical in the thinker's mind.

For example, my friend Dan failed to ask a woman out on a second date after she stopped during a first-date walk, spread her arms wide, lifted her chest toward the clouds and pronounced, "Halt, the Spirits are speaking!" Okay, can't blame the guy for that one. Then there's another woman who actually hands out a quiz to every potential date. He must answer her questions correctly or he's booted to the curb. She wants to see just how smart (or stupid for that matter) they are.

Gentlemen see if you can answer this one: "Are your arms bigger than my thighs?"

Ah, kudos to those who figured out it's a trick question. Physically, this is highly unlikely. With me, it's impossible since I'll probably never date the Incredible Hulk. Besides, green isn't my best color, but I digress. The purpose of this trick question is to see if the man is smart enough to say, "Oh, honey, of course your thighs are thinner!" regardless of the actual size ofsaid thighs. Personally, I can't get on board with this question because reality stares back at me in the mirror every day; I don't need to bring a man's attention to the size of my thighs on purpose. If he likes them just the way they are, he'll look, and we'll be well on our way to euphoria. If he doesn't, well, there's the door. But to each their own. Again, I digress.

Actively in the dating scene now (okay, I like to live in fantasyland), I have a few of my own deal breakers that have sent men packing. Yes, while desperate, I do have some standards. Gone isthe attractive, funny man who smoked pot three times a day minimum. Adios tothe guy who was tall and handsome, but the first thing he blurted out was "Children should be seen and not heard. My women live by this rule!" Yeah, my opinionated happy to tell it like it is adult daughter (she gets that mouth from her father) would have chewed him up and spit him out in a heartbeat; can you say, "deal breaker?" Then, there was the guy who wanted to meet somewhere along the bus route because he lost his driver's license due to a DUI; unless, of course, I wanted to pick him up at his dad's house where he currently resided in the basement. Guess how many dates we had?

None of the above, however, can trump my number one deal breaker: a bad kisser.

I had a string of dates with bad kissers - really bad kissers - really, really, bad kissers (ewe). At first, I thought I was the culprit; after all, I was the common denominator here. And, in my mind, I had myself doomed to a convent for the rest of my life. So, I did what every temporarily mystified divorced woman does and asked my ex husband (I didn't say it was a smart move on my part). He did tell me that kissing was definitely not my problem, but then continued on with a plethora of other things that were, so I tend to believe the kissing part. But, I checked with several past boyfriends just to be safe.

If it wasn't me, it had to be them (I should be a detective). Yes, I used the rules of deduction to come up with this brilliant conclusion and did what all women do ... I called my friends to analyze the situation. We dissected the bad kisser phenomenon until it was a mute point, and then dissected it again before neatly putting it in terms we could all understand; we labeled them (keep in mind there was wine involved; there's always wine involved.). Here're what we came up with in the bad kisser department, and the obvious ones guaranteed to get you tossed:

The Wood Chuck: if a woodchuck could chuck wood, a woodchuck would chuck wood - gnawing on a woman's bottom lip like you're whittling away at a log is not a turn on.

While I've been told my ample bottom lip is tempting, it's not corn on the cob you need to munch in fast forward. Little, delicate nibbles here and there, oh yeah, that works.

The Drooler: See The Hoover Wet Vac (below) minus suction.

The Tongue: Men, please don't go at a woman with your tongue out like Gene Simmons of KISS. Nothing worse than seeing a wiggling, wet appendage coming at you in 3D like an eel in close-up slithering out of its cave in a Jaque Custo documentary.

The Turtle: Does the title alone provoke the image correctly? Ummmm ... think about it a moment. Visualize a turtle retreating into its shell when startled or threatened by a perceived approaching danger. I'll pause here and give you a brief second to see it in your mind's eye.

Yep. You got it!

The Hoover Wet Vac: In order to describe this type of kisser, I have to tell the story of my last date. This was the final straw and probably the reason I haven't pursued dating much lately. It's been about six months since this man kissed me, and I still cringe and shiver - not in a good way either.

We met for dinner after chatting online for a while. He was attractive, intelligent, and funny and could carry on a great conversation. I thought, "Hot damn, they do exist!" Then, he kissed me. He kissed me for about thirty seconds, pulled back and said, "yummy."

I think I smiled.

I know it took every ounce of my body to not wipe away the spit.

Then, he excused himself. Halleluiah! Quick reprieve and swipe of my mouth on my sleave before he came back.

When he returned, he went in for the kill, but I did the duck and swerve maneuver and excused myself to the bathroom. I peered into the mirror to discover that the skin around my mouth all the way down to the bottom of my chin was red and on it's way to being a hickey.

I can feel you all squirming and concur.

I'm still haunted by the experience.