Know your limits
A deal breaker is a condition under which you will leave — or not start — no matter how good everything else is. That last clause is the whole definition. If charm, chemistry, or a sufficiently nice apartment can override it, it was never a deal breaker; it was a preference wearing a serious coat.
Most people carry their deal breakers the way they carry their appendix: present, unexamined, and only noticed in an emergency. The point of writing them down is not to shop for a person with a clipboard. It's to know your own limits before someone is testing them — because mid-infatuation is the worst possible moment to draft policy.
Below is a working list, sorted into the four kinds. Take the ones that are true for you, cross out the ones that aren't, and be suspicious of any list of yours that runs past ten — a long list usually means preferences have been promoted past their rank.
Run the override test: imagine everything else is wonderful — the person is kind, funny, devoted, and this one thing is true. Do you still leave? If yes, it's a deal breaker. If you start negotiating with the hypothetical, it's a preference — which is fine. Preferences matter; they just don't get veto power.
The second test is time: a deal breaker survives a good mood. If an item appears on your list only after a bad date or a friend's engagement, it's weather, not climate.
These involve safety, agency, or arithmetic that no amount of love changes. If any of these are present, the rest of the list is irrelevant.
Values deal breakers are about whether you're steering toward the same life. They feel negotiable early because they only bind at a distance.
One incident is information; a pattern is a policy. These qualify as deal breakers when they repeat after being named.
The unglamorous tier, and the most commonly waived. Lifestyle deal breakers are legitimate — pretending a daily incompatibility is beneath love is how people end up exhausted by year two.
A deal breakers list is only useful before you need it, which means the questions behind it belong at the start — not deployed as a quiz, but asked plainly, traded honestly, early enough that finding a limit costs an evening instead of a year.
That's the practice this site exists for: both of you answer the same questions privately, before the first date, and the mismatches surface while they're still cheap. Your list stops being a private fire escape and becomes half of an honest conversation.
Fair questions
Fewer than ten, and most people's true count is around five. Past that, the list has usually absorbed preferences — things that matter but that a good relationship could hold. Run each item through the override test and demote generously.
The relevant ones, yes — plainly and early, before the first date if you can. "I'm certain I want kids" costs one sentence now and possibly years later. You'll notice the people worth meeting respond with their own list, not with alarm.
Then one of two things is true: the item was a preference all along (fine — rewrite the list), or you're overriding a real limit with chemistry (not fine — it's the most expensive habit in dating). The tell is how you feel afterward: relieved means preference; quietly betrayed by yourself means limit.
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The Dating MOU asks you both the questions your deal breakers live behind — privately, before the first date.