You've Buttered Your Purebred

Story Sent in by Paula:

In one of our first emails over a dating site, Rob asked me, "I apologize if this is too personal, but are you interbred?"

I replied, "What do you mean? I don't understand."

He wrote back in his next email, "Sorry. Probably too personal a question. Don't go crazy about it."

I wasn't planning on it. On our date he took me to a local dive and asked me at the table, "I apologize if this is too personal, but are you interbred?"

"What does that even mean?"

He said, "Are you a mutt? Do you have parents from two different breeds?"

I said, "My father was a Clydesdale and my mother was a Rottweiler. Is that what you're asking?"

He laughed and said, "Not exactly. Are your parents German, Italian, Chinese—"

"Italian and Greek," I said, "And yours?"

"I'm a purebred!" he blurted, "You are a mutt! Oh wow! I don't think I've ever met one, before."

"Is that all right?" I asked. Or began to ask, as he stood up and laughed and left, like I was nothing at all.

When next I signed onto the site, I saw he had deleted his account. Or blocked me. Turns out I don't really care either way.


  1. Filthy mudblood, what do you think you're doing goingf after a purebred? Ruining wizardry for everyone!

    Also, he freaked out about being Italian and Greek? I might be stupid but aren't they right next to each other? Then again, I'm just a mutt. I don't have the intellect that comes with centuries of inbreeding.

  2. "Are you interbred?"

    Why yes, I'm inter baguettes, rolls, croissants, and pastries. How about you?

  3. "Excuse me but are you inbred?"

    "I'm not sure. What's 'inbred'?"

    "Yeast. Flour. Water. Etcetera..."


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