Story Sent in by Steven:
Christine, who was in grad school for business, and I spoke online for a week before meeting in person. I asked her out to dinner, and we met in a restaurant's vestibule.
As she walked in, she munched on a Mounds bar and stuffed it into her purse. I said, "Mounds? Yum."
She smiled and said, "It's a habit that needs to die." She hugged me, then asked, "Do you have your car here?"
"I drove here. Do you need a ride or something?"
She asked, "Can I take a look at it? It's just a thing I have. It won't take more than a second."
Strange sort of thing to have, but I led her to my car, which was parked in a metered lot across the street.
She walked around it and stared at a small patch of rust just over the rear, passenger-side wheel. "Rust!" she said.
I nodded in agreement. She extended a hand to me and said, "Okay, well it was nice meeting you."
I didn't take her hand. "What's this? You're upset about rust on my car?"
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
She took her hand away, shouldered her purse, said, "Just goodnight," and left me standing there. Best I can figure, she thought that rust on my car made her think that I was a "lower class" sort of guy. What do you think?