When I was 19, I briefly dated a girl who was 25, which was a phenomenon unprecedented in my peer group. I was, as least for a short time, a legend. I met this girl through her younger brother, who was friends with a guy I knew, and we hit it off. I asked her out, she cheerfully accepted, which nearly caused me to faint, and we began our short-lived romance. She was pretty, charming, funny, we got along well, and we seemed to have a lot in common.

She invited me over to her apartment one evening, and I discovered the first of a few red flags. I was still young, and pretty much all the girls I dated, including my wife, who I met and later married, still lived with their parents. I had this vague idea this new, exotic, 25 year-old woman had her own place. Turns out, she lived with her mom and younger brother. No big deal, really. The place was clean, the brother was about my age, so we got along okay, and mom, probably in her mid to late forties, was pleasant enough. The more I talked with this girl and the more time we spent together, I found out that she had no discernable income source. Neither did younger brother or mom. None of them had jobs. Red flag.

My new love interest, even in the most banal conversation, could not discuss her place of employment, where she had worked, or what her prospects were for college or occupation. She appeared perfectly healthy, mind you. Ms. 25 year-old dream girl, and her little bro and mama, all seemed impeccably capable of holding down at least some sort of gainful employment. Yet, none of them did. More red flags.

That evening, we sat around in the living room, sipping beer and chatting, and a few of little bro’s pals came to hang out. They were all serious drug users and were not shy about smoking weed, drinking alcohol, and snorting coke right out in the open. My 25-year old dream girl found all this hilarious and perfectly normal. More red flags flying all around. The next week, I was invited back, but this time I was persuaded to bring along my guitar (I can pass as a tolerable picker and singer), and I acquiesced to entertain the company with a few selections. For a while there, I was treated like a regular Bob Dylan with much hooting, cheering, applauding, and beers, weed, and lines of coke offered as compensation for sharing my talent. I confess, I sipped the beers, perhaps smoked a little weed, but warmly declined the proffered cocaine. By then, red flags were positively screaming all around me.

During this three week period, my dream girl and I went out several times. We went to movies, dinner (I always paid for everything), and a couple of local rock concerts, and I noticed that each time she would hit me up for money, because she was always “running a little short.” Red flags fluttering all over the place. Seemed it was always ten dollars here, twenty dollars there, and each time I placed the cash in her hand, I was rewarded with some serious making out, which left me nearly paralyzed. Making out was as far as things went. She began suggesting that if I would make a serious commitment to her, whatever that meant, that we would go way farther.

The last straw came when one evening after a date, she told me she needed $500.00. Remember, I was 19, I was working as a warehouse shipping clerk, and I had about 500 and twenty-some dollars or so in my pathetic little bank account. I sat there and wondered exactly what I would be paying for. This little romance was growing seedier by the moment. She was upset that I wouldn’t give her the money, and she bristled when I casually asked her why she needed it in the first place. I began to wonder if cleaning out my measly bank account was worth keeping this up. I told her I would think about it and call her later. She stormed off into her apartment and that was the last time I ever saw her.

About a year later, I met the girl I would later marry. She was, and is, the most industrious, hardworking, and honest person I have ever known. 39 years later, we are still married.

Wonderfully colored, celebratory banners, flying everywhere.

I once was in a friend’s wedding up in Pennsylvania and was there for 4 days. Went to the rehearsal dinner and all that.

There was a friend of the bride’s who was a bridesmaid that I really hit it off with instantly. The attraction was pretty obvious so we quickly became the subject of swapped glances and not so subtle innuendo from the rest of the wedding party.

I was leaving the day after the wedding and was staying at my buddy’s mom’s house. Once the ceremony was over and the couple had gone off for their honeymoon, this gal asks what I’m doing the rest of the evening and, long story short, we end up back at her apartment. She shows me around and everything looks cool, lived-in but tidy, some interesting art and books and records, and then I see the bedroom.

This gal has the most massive stuffed animal collection I have ever seen. She had shelves built for them all around her bedroom on every wall. There were little beanie baby type critters along the floor, then a shelf of teddy bear sized ones above them, then oversized ones on a shelf above that, and then like half a dozen actual life size animals suspended from the ceiling with fishing line. It was pretty much that, a bed, and a nightstand and nothing else in the room.

All she said was “This is the bedroom” and I said “Cool!” and we walked out. I was just so surprised, and had only known this gal for a couple of days, I had no idea what to say and, seeing as I was in her apartment, didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing. I mean, what do you say to that?

Anyway, we sit out on the balcony and have a couple of beers and at a certain point I say I’d better be getting back because I have to head out in the morning and she says “Y’know you probably shouldn’t drive back right now. Why don’t you stick around another hour and let those beers settle.” So I call my host and tell her I’ll be in a little late and she says she’ll leave a key out.

Then my new friend tells me she knows a great way to burn alcohol out of your system and starts to kiss me. Doesn’t take us long til we’re back there with all the teddy bears. So an hour or so later, I tell her I hate to have to bolt but I really do need to go but I had a great time, she was wonderful.

She looked at me and thought for a second and said, “You can take any prize from the bottom shelf.”

While at one of my art classes I got talking to the model and ended up taking her out after class. About 10pm we went our separate ways she suggested I come by her place tomorrow night to watch a movie together in her apartment as we were both learning Swedish and there was a Swedish art type film she wanted to see.

So, the next day, I turn up at her apartment with Tesco’s finest bottle of vino and some snacks (just in case she actually wanted to watch the movie). Her place was small,but well kept. Nothing out of the ordinary, a few posters on her wall of art type things and interesting painting’s artists had done of her and for her. But I noticed that there was no TV. So we’re talking and chilling out drinking wine, and she tells me she has some art of her own she’d like to show me. And leads me to her bedroom. On the wall is a big red painting on canvas, one of these abstract pieces all different shades of red.

[Something like this]:

I actually don’t really care for art pieces of this kind, but I was polite and just mentioned the things I did like about it. Then she told me it was painted using her own blood. She gave a casual explanation like it was the most normal thing in the world, and mentioned that another famous artist had done something similar.

Ok…,but it doesn't end there,folks…

I turn around and see beautifully presented and framed black and white photos of… something… I couldn't quite make it out. I asked what they where and she replied:

“Oh,these are microscopic photographs. This one is of my mother’s cervix, this one my menstrual blood and the one on the end there is my brother’s semen”.

I made my excuses and left.

So I had a relationship with this woman a few years ago. There were many red flags but I ignored them at first because she had so many great qualities. The thing is, red flags don’t go away because you ignore them. Let me note that a person can show red flags as much as an apartment.

I met this woman and we had many things in common, we liked the same restaurants, had the same ideas on religion and honesty. She was intelligent, funny and pretty. She had a good professional job she loved. I was good to go and happy for the opportunity. We went on some dates of the walk/dinner/activity variety. There was some exciting groping and whatnot. Finally she invited me up to her house where she was going to make dinner.

First red flag: the house and its condition. The building had at one time been a beautiful single family house that had been converted into two beautiful condominiums. The contractor must have really liked the building because it was clear that he had put his heart and soul into the design and concept. Except now, some years after she had purchased it, the house was going to wrack and ruin. The grass hadn’t been cut in months or years. The picket fence in the front was collapsing and covered with peeling paint. The building seriously needed a paint job. I looked at this beautiful house with dismay. As I always do in relationships, I consider how I could improve the situation as part of the relationship. It was daunting already. She told me that the other condo was largely absentee and that she and they both agreed to fire the gardener to save money. She spoke of how excellent the place looked at one time but now she acted as if the forlorn condition was beyond her control.

Red Flag 2: No doorbell. I was expected and there was a doorbell button, but it apparently didn’t work. I had to call on my cell phone. “It hasn’t worked for some time,” she said. Why didn’t you get it fixed? Or put in a wireless version? It’s mighty inconvenient, especially when I am carrying packages. Edit: I couldn’t just knock on the door. The apartment was well beyond hearing range of the knock.

Red Flag 3: The first thing you are going to notice when you go in is the smell. Be aware of it. It’s going to be an important part of your life. If the apartment smells of rot, or gas or garbage or whatnot it’s telling you something about the person you’re with - that they have lived with it for so long they don’t even notice it. The thing about smells is that they are evocative. The smell of the domicile is the smell of that person. It is them, their personality. If the smell of their domicile turns you off then you really need to reconsider the relationship.

Red Flag 4: Hoarding. I went into the apartment and it was completely jammed with overstuffed, mismatched furniture of every type and style. All of it was high quality stuff but the apartment was bursting at the seams. It was hard to move around. You do NOT want to be in a relationship with a hoarder. It never, ever gets better. It only gets worse.

Red Flag 5: Pets. If a woman has a cat, that is cute. I have a cat. If a woman has more than three cats, that’s a warning sign. Every cat past two is an increasingly rapid flashing light that you should watch with great seriousness. The term “Crazy Crazy Cat Lady” isn’t just an mnemonic for making Cosmopolitans: it’s a real thing.

Red Flag 6: The pictures on the wall. They were all of her. Here she is on graduation 35 years ago. Here she is with her infant daughter. Here she is winning the Dressage Cup. Here she is on her wedding day. There was other art there, good, interesting and valuable art but the disturbing number of selfies and self-tributes was excessive. How’s your narcissism doing today?

Red Flag 7: The kitchen. Looked like a bomb went off. There was not one inch of counter space anywhere and it was a huge kitchen. Every inch was covered with letters or photos or appliances or gem-gaws, and tea caddies and expensive coffee pots. The sink was filled with dirty dishes. The dishwasher was the receptacle for clean dishes to be used for eating. They never made it from the dishwasher to the cabinets. Grime underneath. Not a place where you want to prepare food.

Red Flag 8: The trash. There was trash. Lots of it. Bags of it. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Many bags were filled with empty wine bottles. What conclusions can you draw? Someone drinks a great deal, or has many people over, or can’t be bothered to take a bag to the trash can on the way down to work in the morning. And empty wine bottles smell after awhile. A bag of them smells really badly.

Red Flag 9: The dinner. She made dinner. It was largely re-heated leftovers with some additional touches. She fancied herself a gourmet cook who could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear through “food experimentation”. However, one of the things about experiments is that that they often fail and are supposed to lead to some kind of perfection, at least for food, but they rarely did. She had real cooking skill but it was often wasted on failed experiments and near-rancid leftover food.

Red Flag 10: The bathroom. One of the biggest tests of someone is the state of their bathroom. After eating the bad left-over food I needed some R&R in the lavatory. A cursory attempt had been made to wipe it up but the soap-scum in the shower and the build-up of grime everywhere generally made it known that housekeeping was not a high priority here. If you’re going to invite someone to your home, especially for the first time, you want to make sure that at least the bathroom is pristine because this is the newcomer’s only retreat from the stress of being in your house for the first time. They are being friendly and sweet and all the good, polite things you’re supposed to do in someone’s house when you come for the first time of a budding friendship/relationship. The only place they can relax is the bathroom for those 3 - 5 minutes they are in there. It should be clean anyway, but it should be cleaned for their visit specifically. You’re telling them something about you through your actions - or inaction. In general, if you’re going to invite someone to your house for the first time you should be like the “white tornado” and clean the hell out of it. Maybe you think that means you’re hiding your “true self” but maybe it means you respect your guest too.

Red Flag 11: The Roommate. We are making out on the overstuffed Victorian couch in the living room with scented candles burning and lights low. I hear the door rattling. “It’s my roommate,” she says, pulling a blanket over us as the door opens. A woman comes in. She looks at the floor obsequiously. “You know,” my girlfriend lectures her, “It’s after 11. You shouldn’t be out this late. You have college in the morning.” The girl mumbles something, smiles and goes to her room. I’m asking myself, “Are you her mother? Does she pay rent?” It turns out the room mate pays ALOT, a lot more than I would have expected to put up with abuse from another adult.

Red Flag 12: A suspicious idea of privacy. In six months of dating I never once made it into her bedroom. That was her “private sanctuary”. It made me a little nervous. How much does someone trust you if you can’t even go into their bedroom? All the amorous activities took place on the couch where I always had one ear for the rattling doorknob and the embarrassed room mate who looked at the floor and and scurried to her room, or I had to hear, at the key moment, “Don’t get it on the couch! Don’t get it on the couch!”. This is NOT what you want to hear at the penultimate moment of lovemaking. Also what you don’t want to hear at that tender, trembling moment when you are working down the straps of her blouse over her shoulders for the very first time and she looks up at you shyly and says, “I don’t do anal and you can forget about blow jobs.”. There’s a MAJOR red flag when the first thing someone says about sex is what they WON’T do. I began to realize that I hadn’t spent enough time in discussion before getting in this deeply.

Red Flag 13: The books. The books your paramour has on the shelf and lying around tell you things about them. While I can’t stand that execrably written “50 Shades of Gray”, I am guessing you have to put up with it because it’s so ubiquitous. But you would think it might lead to an interesting and provocative discussion. But no. And under it was “The Art of the Deal”. “My parents sent me that,” she said, hurriedly, “They are huge Trump supporters”. As an aside I had had the misfortune of meeting her parents once. Slim, ascetic and ramrod straight, they reminded me exactly of Joseph and Magda Goebbels. For two hours over dinner I listened to them extol the “glorious Trump victory” while I died inside. When he said, “Trump will make those Blacks and Latins) toe the line. Finally.” I could almost see the black and silver swastika at his neck. In my mind I replaced the slurs for Blacks and Latins with the word “Jew”. I wish now I had just gotten up and walked out. She was a Trump supporter too, a cowardly Trump supporter, not capable of standing up and saying what she believed in because she feared ridicule. It was one of the straws the broke the camel’s back. When something important is happening, silence is a lie. If you have to hide enormous parts of yourself from others it should be a signal that something is wrong. Either you’re not being true to yourself or you’re lying to them.

Red Flag 14: The money. You know, when you are first going out, you don’t really discuss finances that much. It’s more personal than sex. The guy buys dinner, maybe flowers and wine and over time you think there will be a balance of payments. And then you talk about it because you’re getting more serious. But, after dinner and lovemaking on the couch, when you’re staggering out the door to your car at 2AM and she kisses you good bye and her last words are, “You owe me $15.47 for the food” then you REALLY, REALLY need to reconsider what the HELL you are doing there in the first place. To the fucking PENNY. Every time.

There’s a corollary of Murphy’s Law that says the more you tinker with something in an attempt to improve it, the sooner you will break it permanently. In the end I was so desperate to be in a relationship that I was twisting myself into all kinds of pretzels to make it work. The thing that finally made me snap was when she chastised me MIGHTILY for asking her to fill the parking meter while I parked the car. She was a bright, fun, decent person to do things with and be with but in the end the complete dissolution and mean-spirited entitlement and penury made it impossible for me to spend even one more minute there. When it was over, all I felt was relief and I was astonished I had been bottling up and repressing all my objections all that time. I slept well that night for the first time in months.

I was dating this girl for a bit when I was invited into her apartment. I really liked the girl. We had a lot in common. Then I saw this photo on the mantel.

She’s in it.

She was in the kitchen getting drinks for us.

I looked around. Looked back at the photo.

She asked me if I wanted ice.

Suddenly, I thought ice might come in handy in the near future.

I said sure.

Then I looked up. Just then, a thunder clap.

A year later we were married at St. Ignatius, Boston College.

I don’t know about this question, guys. It seems that people, men and women’s red flags bar these days is so low, that all one has to do is sneeze too loud and that’s a “RED FLAG RUN FOR THE HILLS” for some folks.

If I have any real deal-breakers, they are:

• Moving far too fast. Step off of the gas. While it might have been flattering at the age of 20 that someone could feel so strongly for me (what an idiot I was to believe it was real), it’s actually the sort of thing a person with NPD does. It’s called Love Bombing, so when someone goes too full-on too soon, it sets off legitimate alarm bells.
• Assuming ill intent without doing even a modicum of fact checking. One ex had this one in her playbook. If I accidentally drop something on the floor, nope, that wasn’t an accident, I did it deliberately to upset her. If she goes rifling through a guy’s web browser to see what websites he visits, clicks on one that goes to a graphic design resources link, then looks at a list of links that go to other sites, and follows the trail until eventually coming across a web site that sets off a drive-by-virus alert that she then subsequently ignores, clicks to proceed, infects said guy’s PC with viruses that fire off porn pop-ups all over the place, then proceeds to accuse said guy of looking at porn sites (as if it’s a crime, which it’s not) and then trashes all of his stuff and accuses him of being akin to whichever worst and most evil figure of your religious belief you can think of… That should be a sign to run for the hills and make sure she can never contact you again.
• Kicking a guy in his sleep and telling him she hates him, because (and I kid you not) she had a dream about him stealing stuff from a charity store. Yeah… This one actually happened to me. She never apologised for giving me hell for a dream she had either.
• Having a love-hate relationship with sex. If you are a sexual creature, you should never be ashamed of it. That kind of destructive thinking is what ruins relationships. When you visit that shame on other people because you can’t handle it about yourself and do not understand that people are individuals, then you have a problem. This is a real red flag.
• Crying… Incessantly. While people are emotional creatures at times, and there are genuine reasons for having an emotional collapse… Not having a pristine floor or a clean sink is not one of them, and it damned well isn’t a reason to look at a guy as though you are the worst rapist on the surface of the fucking planet.
  Yes, this is another one that happened to me. Same ex.
  And yes, that shit stays with you even decades afterwards.
  That, folks, is what a REAL red flag looks like.
• Anyone who demands to know everything there is to know about your life, right down to every last person you ever spoke to, to the point that they get upset if you spoke to anyone they specifically didn’t approve of.
  
  Run.
  
  Run fast.

There are loads more that I could think of that are real red flags in a relationship. A few pizza boxes are not red flags or deal breakers. I can think of far more emotionally-traumatising things in life than whether someone had pizza a few times last week.

I’m going to approach this answer from a different perspective.

First, it wasn’t an apartment, it was a home. In Greenwich, Connecticut, a town known for nice homes.

From the outside, the house and grounds were impressive, though not outrageous. Inside was another story (and a series of red flags).

Every room was exquisitely decorated with unique furnishings, including wall, window, and even ceiling treatments.

The kitchen was bigger than my kitchen, living and dining rooms combined, with the usual high-end restaurant level appliances, a huge island with a half dozen stools, an antique table for twelve (the dining room sat at least twice that), plus a couch and arm chair facing a large screen TV in the kitchen’s corner. (There was also a living room and library/den, both with working fireplaces.)

The bedroom was large and a little sparse (since there was no need for dressers). Getting to the bathroom required a trip through a walk-in closet the size of my bedroom with custom built-in fixtures, drawers, and sliding doors, plus floor to ceiling mirrors, and a love seat.

Upon entering the bathroom, against the far wall was an oversized, raised Jacuzzi tub with two or three marble steps to reach it. To the right and left, as if looking into mirrors, were duplicate his and her double sinks, two large showers, and two doored closets each containing a bidet and toilet.

Ironically, the woman mentioned (almost apologetically) how she had the most modest home of all her friends.

For a lower middle class kid who grew up in a Brooklyn slum I’ve lived a charmed life and resided in comfortable homes. I’ve been in a number of impressive abodes, spent weekends in a friend’s 13 bedroom mansion, and was once a guest in a billionaire’s 30 room monstrosity filled with original Remington sculptures, complete with a “parking lot for guests” and helipad. But this was the home of a potential love interest and, to put it mildly, I was intimidated.

Oh dear. Spoilers: bookshelves full of torture porn.

I have a thing for the bizarre and socially unacceptable. There was a woman I knew who told me of her love of comics and manga about brutal serial killers, and how she wrote some of her own. She got turned on by terrific violence and asked if I did as well.

Standing there in my tweed jacket, I said "no, but that's fascinating".

And she looked innocent as one can look, a button of a woman who wore flowery dresses, was heavily involved in her Church, would call me to talk about the puppy she just saw and had a bright yet warm face, always filled with a smile.

One night I was feeling bored, and having baked too many calissons for one person, asked if she would like some the next day. She one-upped my offer and asked if I wanted to come over that night. It seemed like she genuinely just wanted the pastries, so I said yes.

Now, when she had mentioned she had an interest in the subject, I took it to mean a guilty pleasure of some sort, or a healthy obsession with books much as one might have for Arthur Conan Doyle or 1920s American literature.

When I arrived, her apartment was very clean and orderly. I wasn't put off by anything else, but she had bookshelves lining the walls of her apartment. She invited me across the room to look at them, and every last book- there must have been thousands of them, all on the same subject- was from one series or another devoted to sexual torture. Masochism of the highest order, involving real physical harm. It was her consuming passion and hobby, and she worked in order to satisfy this urge.

It was at the moment when she politely mentioned she'd broken up with her last boyfriend because he didn't use the knives like she wanted him to that I thought 'perhaps I'm a little out of my element here'.

There's more to that story, but it's outside the scope of this question.

And it seems that ending has left you all with rapt attention! I wouldn't wish to leave you needlessly wondering, so here is the response I have to one comment asking about it.

I didn't ask about the knives, thinking that was between her and her ex-boyfriend.

Despite the offputting books, the rest of the night was pleasant. We shared the pastries, talked about fanfiction, decided to watch Pirates of the Caribbean and then talked about Pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction.

She pointed out scenes where she felt there was a clear subtext between Will and Jack, which made for an interesting lens through which to view the movie. True to my hunch, she didn't have any ulterior motives and it was simply a fun evening of conversation and sweets. It seems as long as the subject stayed away from the less palatable aspects of her personality, she was a nice person to know.

Question: What’s something in a woman’s apartment that sets off red flags?

Hmmm…..

Let’s see:

1. Lots of empty pill containers - Why? Why not discard them? Does she have a drug problem? Even worse, if some of the pill containers don’t have her name on them and she lives alone.
2. Dirty dishes anywhere but in the kitchen…and not too many in there - While I’m not a neat freak, I do have a problem with dirty dishes, especially if you have a dishwasher.
3. Lots of bills - Put your bills away if you are inviting me over. While I’m not interested in your finances until things get serious (if they do) I’m also not looking to date a woman who is in serious financial trouble.
4. Items that belong to a male, especially if she lives alone, and we are in an “exclusive” relationship - Seriously if I come across a guy’s shoes, his razor, some of his underwear, or his clothing in her closet, then I’m going to ask about it as I’m not looking forward to any unpleasant encounters at her place or out in public. I also am not big on “sharing”, so if she’s looking for a guy who’s comfortable with being Number #2 or “another option” I’m not the one.
5. Illegal drugs in the open - Weed isn’t a problem; harder drugs are. Needles are completely out of the question as I dated a woman years ago who was mainlining secretly and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. If you are using hard drugs, let me know, and then I can make an informed decision. If I find out by surprise, I’m going to end things right there.
6. Stolen things - Yes, this happens. No, I’m not interested in being around in case the police come looking.

Other people have covered other things so I didn’t put them in my answer.

NOTE: If you put your own preferences in my comments section, then you’re “not doing Quora right.”

I delete answers in the comments section, so just use them for your own answer to the question.

The whole “no books” thing is seriously overrated. I spend every single day learning new things about history, philosophy, astronomy, evolution, physics, chemistry, neurology, and so forth. I also literally cannot remember the last time I read a book for fun, or had one on my shelves that I planned on reading. Am I uncultured because I don’t have the time or willingness to sit around and read a physical book about one specific subject, when I would prefer to learn about a lot of different things on the go so I have time to get all my shit done?

What sets off red flags for me is a lack of order on the first date. Bed sheets strewn about, sink full of dirty dishes, clothes on the floor, that kind of shit.

I don’t care about untidiness in and of itself; I too am exactly like that. What I do care about is showing effort for a stranger. If you can’t bring yourself to make your home presentable for someone you don’t know that you’re presumably trying to romance, that shows a fundamental selfishness and possibly a lack of self-awareness that’s going to soon corrupt any relationship we might have. It sounds dramatic until you actually look at what motivates sloppy and lazy behaviors, and how that underlying self-centeredness eventually leaks into major decisions.

I too am often extremely selfish in small ways that add up over time, and I worry regularly about how that’s going to affect my future relationships with people. So I really don’t need or want to be around someone like that. It would give me an opponent for a partner while also enabling my own worst tendencies, so no thanks.

Well guys, I've got to laugh.

I'm amazed at how many are afraid of cats. (I've got six, and they are well cared for and tended. You should be so lucky. No cat "smells," either. I'm better than the television commercials on that one.)

Pizza boxes? (Really? You don't eat pizza once in a while? I seldom have it, but your comments point it out readily. Red flag to me!)

Messy house? (It's clean underneath, but I use most of my "mess" on a daily basis. I'm a functional-type person, and that hammer in the bathroom is there for a reason.)

Firearms? (I inherited some. Yes, even an assault rifle [or two]. I also have a few handguns, as I live in an area known for house invasions. I've never needed to use them, and I have them safely stored, but easily accessible.)

I don't do drugs, although somethings may appear so. ( I do plant food. My garden shows my efforts.)

Box wine? (Yes, I've got some. It's really good to cook with, and some brands are just as good as bottled. It lasts longer in boxes, too. It takes a long time to go through a box.)

I'm glad you have the red flags, we all do. But take them in stride. Not all things are as they seem.

By the time I’m in a lady’s apartment, chances are I’ve already figured out major red flags, such as drug use, self-harm, and the like. If I suspect any of those, I’ll have politely declined long before getting to her apartment.

Back when I was still dating, one of the big red flags I looked for was reading material. “None” was a red flag (no books? magazines? nothing?) but the big red flags start waving when I see entire shelves of romance novels, celebrity gossip magazines, and (to a lesser extent) women’s magazines. To me, these all point to a woman who is unhappy with herself, and engages in elaborate fantasies involving other people’s lives and made-up expectations that no man can fill.

Actually house is not the reflection of the person.

Sure, home does provide lot of hints about the person's taste or financial situation but in the end, it has nothing to do with the person who lives there…

For example,

So no man or woman from this house can be psychopath, cheater, liar, fraudster or simple peice of shit?

Or

man or woman living in this condition can never be honest, lovable, caring, loyal or truthful?

House is just a one context through which you can understand the PART oof the person which is

what it means for her or him to call a place as his or her home?

The more it means something, the more small details are taken care of. (This does not include crap of moving finger on the inside corner edges. I would worry if I don't find the dirt in those areas ;) )

The more it means nothing, the more disorder would be present in the home.

I don't pay attention to if it's in the order or disorder but I try to know the reason behind it. I mean if the house is messy, I would ask why is it so messy? I will pay attention to her/his judgement of house being dirty after I pointed it out.

I mean, how do they “justify” it would tell me everything I need to know.

I have 2 categories.

1. I am there to fuck.
2. I am digging her character.

I don't really care what the house is like, if I am there to fuck. In the worst case scenario I will take her to hotel or my place.

If I like the girl, I don't really care about the mess but the reason behind the mess.

It's simple,

If you are important enough to make a good first impression, you will find the home clean and organized after a planned date.

If you don't mean shit or just girlfriend in male form, the home will be mess even after a planned date.

Please a human life is way more complicated to understand by observing something that belongs to other person and understanding it from your point of view.

Forget about the red flags, if you don't have any res flags yourself, why haven't you become the god himself?

We all have something weird which is red flag worthy for someone.

Please tell me one thing, you are at the chic place so instead of making her want you to visit again, you looking for red flags in her home? You would have sensed the red flag if you actually paid that much attention to the chic herself.

Persona changes as per the location but character never change. Be it at the home or at work place.

In 2000 I went to Australia and met a woman. She had a strong will, and early on I noticed she could have some violent streaks. I let that slide. She invited me to her place, and I thought—why not?

Her house looked like the one pictured above. The roof tiles glistened in the light of the Moon. The red bricks of her house seemed to glow, like the house was enchanted somehow.

She unlocked her front door and giggled as she told me to wait there until she got ready. I asked her ready for what, but she closed the door in front of me before I managed to finish the sentence. I waited for a couple of minutes. Then I waited some more. After about ten minutes I became impatient and knocked on the door. No answer…

I leaned against the door and almost fell into the house. Apparently the door was open. I entered the corridor. I wasn’t quite prepared for the lack of hygiene this lady was about to confront me with. The house was a mess, and I think I saw a speck of blood. I disregarded it and pushed a disgusting, wet, heavy curtain to the side as I crossed the room. I disregarded that as well. I smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen.

I entered the kitchen, and there were two meals with meat, potatoes, and vegetables on the kitchen counter. I figured perhaps she prepared the meals for us.

There were two notes placed with the plates, each with a different name written on them. My name was on neither, so I ignored the meals (in all honesty I might have tasted a bit of the meat, which was great).

I called out, “Katherine?” No answer. I entered the bedroom, and there she was, unconscious with a bottle of pills next to her side. I called 000.

Remember the speck of blood I might have seen? I understated things. This was the state of the corridor:

Lots of red, but no red flags in sight.

What I figured to be a delicious meal though, turned out to be Katherine’s husband, John Price. The delicious smell probably came from her husband’s head, which was brewing in the pot. The disgusting curtain turned out to be her husband’s skin.

It reads like fiction, and indeed this has not been a recounting of my own experiences, but these I imagine to be some of the strongest red flags you can possibly encounter in a lady’s apartment. The epitome of red flags.

If you want to know more about what actually occurred on 29 February 2000, watch this documentary:

Here are a few.

Too many books published by a Christian Book Publisher (2 is too many). There is no point going to the batter's box if the umpire tells you that you'll be thrown out at First.

A pet with whom she engage in conversational banter for more than 15 seconds and the pet is into it. Pets have the ability to be jealous and guess with whom she will takes sides.

Dirty bathroom. I get the dirty kitchen thing, but a foul bathroom is a sign her hygeine is worse than a cub scout at summer camp.

Too much of one color, or all black, or all white. I experienced the second two. One girl (not a goth) had this whole erotic vampire schtick that went well with her “Don't touch, don't ask” set of rules. Black sofa, lamps, curtains, coffee table, and rug along with an awesome JVC stereo, black and chrome. Left really fast. The all white apartment chick didn't want me to sit and looked at every place I stepped on the rug as a toxic waste zone. I looked at my phone, questioned the date, and said “oh crap, I have to go…. I'll explain later.”

The first four: Walk fast, Run if you Must. The next is Pick up a CIA manual on how to hide from her forever.

Any music interest in a male singer that includes more than 1 picture of him is a problem. I went out with this girl, who really like Bruce Springsteen….the bedroom was like a small chapel devoted to him. But I like Bruce. Donny Osmond not so much. Its 1983 and I am about to get a peek into the “single” dorm room of my date (quite the perk…no roommate to expel). I walked in, the light went on, and all I could think was that Tiger Beat magazine was staying in business on her purchases alone. You could not see any walls, it was covered in pics of Donny Osmond. Lest you think I ran…..put on pretty romantic side A of Donny Osmond's best love songs, hit the lights, and said “image your fantasy lover…”. She called me Donny all night, she even screamed his name at certain aroused moments. In the morning, I looked apoplectic and said “My dad's name is Donald (true) and I am really weirded out over this. I am sorry….I think I need to talk with someone about this.”. (I was going through a bitter existential phase. Do not judge me, she was pretty.)

A2A

“Men, what’s something in a lady’s apartment that sets off red flags?”

If they are already in the “old woman” phase of decoration is a pretty decent red flag for me.

Timing, when they took me to their apartment, if it isn’t a one-nighter, could also be a red flag as a woman who wants to get closer at a faster rate than I am comfortable with.

The smell, if it smells bad than it shows she doesn’t care about what environment she lives in and so is a reflection often on their situation in life.

If she is still living with her parents, that is a huge red flag as it has now turned into a “meet her parents” situation which I am quite adamant about not doing.

Lots of cats. Loooottttsssss of cats.

hygiene of the place, can be linked to smell sure, but if it is openly looking like a hurricane wiped out the entire apartment? That is a huge signal of how her life is.

Heavy religious decoration, I am very much an Agonistic and so often me and religion does not mesh too well, heavily religious is a red flag for failure on the base belief.

There are many others, but those are often what I look for first.

Vodka bottles in unusual places, like the bathroom cabinet, under the bed, behind a big pot plant or behind some books on the book shelf. Bottles of medication with the names of strangers printed on the labels. Piles of red bills with FINAL NOTICE stamped on them. Some seedy person who appears to live on the couch but whose presence in the house is never fully explained. Another man coming and tapping at the window to her bedroom after midnight. A super hostile housemate who appears to hold a seething resentlment that she has brought another man home and drops unsubtle hints that they have slept together .

Her husband.

A herd of cats.

A medicine cabinet that looks like a drug store.

I kid you not, I was taking a girl home (waiting to see if I was going to be invited in) when we heard someone go out the back window. There was a lot of commotion. I was doing beginner MMA so I tried to play the hero. She begged me not to check it out. She yelled out a guy’s name. I could see a shadow on the lawn. He had jumped off the 2nd floor patio.

I guess she had told her husband that her new boyfriend was an MMA fighter and would beat him up if they ever met.

That was the first I’d heard that she was married. But I thought it was strange. I didn’t hate the guy. And I didn’t want to get into a fight.

When I asked her, she and her Mom both told me that he was her ex-husband. She was hot. I was young, inexperienced and horny, so I dismissed it.

We ended up at my place a few nights later in bed. She was wild! My roommate came home and thought I was watching porn without my headphones.

A few days later she broke up with me. No explanation.

The next time I saw her, she was with a new guy. She grabbed his arm, started falling backward like Sarah Connor in Terminator II, and screamed, “Don’t you come near me!!! Keep him away from me!!” She was a total nut job. I’m sure if I stuck around I would have ended up in jail or in the hospital.

The cats and drugs are unrelated to this girl, but watch out for those, too.

This.

When you look at her selfies, stop looking at her body and look at how she lives.

News flash dudes… vaginas are still vaginas, no matter what woman they are on. Breasts are still breasts. But a nasty ass woman will probably have just as many diseases in her mind and body as she does in her filthy house.

There is nothing sexy about this.

Jason Criddle's answer to Left to themselves without any women would all men turn into slobs?

Back in my dating days over 20 years ago, probably the biggest red flag would be how messy the place is. If the place is disgusting and the bathroom is an absolute disaster, run!

Usually in the spirit of courtship, a person will want to clean their place up and try to show you their best side. If they’re not even trying to do that for your first time in their place, that’s a big red flag.

Another red flag is she has a lot of guys randomly stopping over that she calls friends, and is slow to send them on their way. And when they’re there, she portrays you more as a friend than somebody she’s actually dating and entertaining at the moment.

She’ll also answer guys calls (back in the days when the landline was the only line) and be ok with talking at length. In short, letting you know that you could be one of many guys that she’s stringing along, and somehow you should be glad that you’re sitting on her couch in her place that she invited you to, so that you can get a feel for her social life/dating scene.

She lives with her older divorced sister and their Divorced Mother. She doesn’t talk much about her past relationship, but you can tell that there’s a lot of toxic male resentment that perpetuates itself in the household that they may not even realize that they’re portraying, or even care.

That’s gonna be an uphill battle to bring peace of mind that you’re doing the right thing by sticking around.

Fortunately, I met my wife 20 years ago and left all those girls and their nonsense in my rear view mirror where they belong.

Not her apartment, but her bedroom as she still lived with her parents. She kept a portrait of her former boyfriend as a child. I thought this was odd and when I made a joke about it she explained that her boyfriend had actually died.

Of course I became apologetic…a dead boyfriend is certainly not the same thing as an ex boyfriend. She said not to worry, that how would I have known?

It got worse. She’d come home from work and found him dying with a gunshot wound to his head and a gun in his hand. It gets even worse than that…she’d always suspected he’d been murdered by his brother. But of course, I let it go because…well, he’d died and not broken up with her. So a picture of him on the wall was understandable. Right?

Wrong.

There were several difficulties with the connection, but the deceased boyfriend ended up being a huge element of it. “I thought I was prepared for the next relationship,” she said moments before informing me to get free from the woman household.

Yep. Needs operate screaming for the hills when I saw that picture. Although she was amazing in bed so I would have missed out on that.

A candle, yes, a simple candle.

Back in my more carefree single days, I joined a nice lady I met that night at her apartment for a sleepover.

In her attempt to create a romantic environment, she placed a lit candle by the bed. Actually on a bookshelf.

Inquiring whether that was a good idea, she assured me she did it all the time. We went about the usual business of alcohol fueled mischief, and collapsed into sleep.

I awoke while she still slept, to the smell of something burning and sure enough, the bookshelf was in flames. I was able to leap out of bed, find something to hold water and extinguished the fire.

So while it was a crisis averted, it’s a reminder that when you spot a red-flag, do something.

And in this case a one-niter was appropriate. The fire was not in my heart.

A lack of Red flags.

If the communist flag isn’t there, then she’s a waste of time. All of us agree, we had a meeting.

I'm not male, but I have enough male close friends to know what sets off red flags to them in a gal's home turf.

First is a lack of cleanliness and order in a house. I know it's unfair but while a lot of men, mine included, are messy, they want their women to be at least orderly.

Next are receipts lying atound that show that you dropped 300 bucks or higher on a pair of shoes, or other stuff that's expensive. Face it, men don't understand a woman's need to shop, hahaha! Just keep them hidden, or tweak your spending habits a little in case you two get into a relationship.

Keepsakes from exes are a red flag to some. Not all, but to some.

If your fridge isn't moderately stocked with good stuff or your kitchen is loaded with junk food, to some it's a sign that you don't cook or can't cook. Red flag to men looking for ltr material or wife material.

Hope this helped.

I’ll take the liberty to answer the question even if it isn’t about a girl, since I have, errr…other preferences. But this is about red flags, sooo.

I met him online when I was 19 and he was 23. All good. After a few times out, I found that I was always paying for everything. Expensive restaurants and such. Even if he was the one working as a janitor/concierge and I just made $400 a month from my community college financial aid, so he earned more than me but he never offered to pay for anything.

Then I went to his house. A two-story house where about 8 people lived. He had his own room, luckily.

1st red flag: he told me his two brothers and his father were homophobic.

2nd red flag: he told me his dad had raped one of his lesbian sisters.

3rd red flag: when I tried to get intimate he backed off saying there was a hidden camera in his room’s ceiling because “the police were monitoring the house because of what his dad did to his sister”.

4th red flag: he had no apparent educational or professional goals. Actually, I don’t remember if he did or if he said he had to “provide for his family”. Or if he actually finished High School. Details are vague.

5th res flag: he invited me to new parties every weekend. Always big reunions with the Colombian diaspora and partying.

Overall? Always check for signs of family disfunctionality. Chances are, if her/his family is so broken, she/he is too. It’s a whole new level of weirdness and insanity.

Not her apartment, but her bedroom as she still lived with her parents. She kept a portrait of her former boyfriend as a child. I thought this was odd and when I made a joke about it she explained that her boyfriend had actually died.

Of course I became apologetic…a dead boyfriend is certainly not the same thing as an ex boyfriend. She said not to worry, that how would I have known?

It got worse. She’d come home from work and found him dying with a gunshot wound to his head and a gun in his hand. It gets even worse than that…she’d always suspected he’d been murdered by his brother. But of course, I let it go because…well, he’d died and not broken up with her. So a picture of him on the wall was understandable. Right?

Wrong.

There were a number of issues with the relationship, but the deceased boyfriend was a big part of it. “I thought I was ready for another relationship,” she said moments before telling me to get out of her house.

Yep. Should have run screaming for the hills when I saw that picture. Although she was amazing in bed so I would have missed out on that.