We all have dealbreakers when it comes to dating. Bad kisser – dealbreaker. Really short – dealbreaker. Cheapskate – total deal breaker. However, my other dealbreaker, the one that tends to make people roll their eyes at me, and scoff and even pelt things at me is my severe aversion to white socks. Yes, boys who wear white socks are the ultimate dealbreaker. I’d be willing to overlook a lot if some cute fella were rocking some striped socks and I caught a glimpse of them peaking out between the hem of his jeans and the top of his Chucks.

To be clear, I’ve never dated anyone who wears white socks. I have, sadly, had a one night stand here or there and noticed white socks on the floor the next morning before I kick the guy to the curb, and hung my head in shame. However, people with whom I’ve had something meaningful and a wee bit more long-lasting relationship have always been colorful from their head to their toes. Maybe it’s because I live in New York, maybe it’s because I’ve always dated people who have obscenely delicious senses of style, or maybe I’m really just that picky that I’ve managed to weed out the white sock-wearing members of the community.

In my mind, there’s nothing more vile than white socks that are grey from being washed with the dark laundry too many times, and are now exhibiting a hole or two… what does this say about someone? Where’s the attention to detail? Nubby, holey, formerly white socks are the stuff that keeps me up at night, pacing my bedroom trying to figure out how such things can be banned. I’d start a movement if I knew others felt as strongly as I do, but after beating the subject to death with my friends, I seem to be the only one who is offended by such a thing.

When it comes to love, I’m not looking for perfection. In fact, perfect is pretty boring. I love crooked noses, wonky senses of humor, and vulgarity is really endearing in my mind, too. But my one standard, the one deal breaker that I’ll stick to until my dying day is this: NO WHITE SOCKS! Yes, I totally just channeled Joan Crawford there.

Am I wrong? Does anyone else out there agree with me on this matter?