Eat

When G-sizz started eating real food, she was generally agreeable to anything reduced to a puree: veggies, fruits, protein, bologna, Indian takeout, basically your standard baby food. There were of course the occasional bites that rendered faces of confusion and pure disdain. Peas come to mind. Blueberries, surprisingly, too. On the whole, though, we couldn’t complain because she ate most everything else. I was cautiously optimistic.

Food pickiness is a lesser discussed category that truly factors into relationship compatibility. I should know. I dated a vegetarian. And then I dated someone who basically ate only chicken sandwiches. I didn’t marry either of them.

Eating is one of the simplest activities every human engages in (hopefully) on a regular basis. Yet eating can be so easily complicated. I love the thought of “breaking bread” together. No matter where you come from or what you do, everyone needs to eat. And sharing a meal with someone has a certain special aspect to it that cannot be denied.

When Jules discusses the Big Kahuna Burger with Brett and declares that dating a vegetarian basically made him a vegetarian, I agree and disagree. In her defense, the ex-veggie gf didn’t lecture me about ordering veal oscar, nor did she predict arteriosclerosis if I ordered a Coney hot dog. Her aversion to meat was not because of religious or ethical beliefs. She just didn’t care for the taste or the way her body felt as meat digested. I respected her position – and still do – as well as anyone else who avoids meat or animal products for whatever reason. I just feel sorry for peeps of that persuasion.

Me: Your Honor, I move to admit “bacon” as Exhibit 1.
Opposing Counsel: Objection, your Honor, and move to strike -
Judge (glaring at opposing counsel): Overruled. Proceed counsel.

How can anyone, anywhere, anytime resist bacon? Or steak? Burgers? Sausage with peppers and onions? Turkey on Thanksgiving? Franks at Fenway? Brats in Milwaukee? (Ok, I’ve never been but I want to and heard they take their meat products seriously there.) My dad’s chicken francese? My mother-in-law’s roast beef? My Uncle Tony’s ribs? My wife’s pork loin? My Uncle Carl’s anything-with-meat? The “Big Bitch” at Scranton U.? The “Morning Shiner” at Kountry Kart? The turkey hash omelette at My Diner in Southie? WHO ORDERED THE CODE RED, COLONEL JESSUP?! I WANT THE TRUTH!!! Your witness, Captain Ross.

As for the other ex-gf, it didn’t matter what kind of restaurant we went to: seafood, Mexican, fast food, steak joint, Chinese – she ordered a plain chicken sandwich. I can’t tell you how many times we’d walk from restaurant window to restaurant window reading menus for god damned chicken sandwiches as I fumed when Duxbury oysters or tuna tartare were on the appetizer list.

By no means whatsoever am I some kind of food snob. Honestly, I'm probably an awful critic because I like almost everything. At minimum, I'm willing to try anything. I love to ask a server at a restaurant to order my meal for me. Or going "splitsies" with someone else at the table to hedge the odds on missing a real winner. But if a partner is vegetarian or chicken sandwich only, it significantly limits one's options.

Unfortunately, G has recently evolved into some kind of cross between Padma Lakshi and Gail Simmons: none of them cook in any professional capacity but all of them are full of expert opinions about how to make or present food.

G started off by discretely depositing rejects quickly over her shoulder when she thought no one was looking. Soon, she moved onto vise clamping her mouth shut and twisting her face away, while swatting annoyingly at spoonfuls of peach yogurt with Cheerios like they were bothersome flies. Now, she smiles lovingly at me as she grasps an apple slice, followed immediately by a spiteful drop of the fruit over the side of her throne, all the while making eye contact as chunks hit floor. I just sigh and bend down to eat whatever hasn't sat for too long.

Oh well. At least I know my baby mama will go for a steak and a ginormous glass of red with me about six months from now. Until then, leftover apple chunks and yogurt with Cheerios will have to do. Looks like I’m eating vegetarian all over again, but at least it’s not just chicken sandwiches…