My sister forwarded me this New York Times article this morning, entitled “I Love You, but You Love Meat” that described how one’s dietary preferences can make or break a relationship.
Sharing meals has always been an important courtship ritual and a metaphor for love. But in an age when many people define themselves by what they will eat and what they won’t, dietary differences can put a strain on a romantic relationship. The culinary camps have become so balkanized that some factions consider interdietary dating taboo.
It’s like those idiot vegans who won’t even sleep with non-vegans, because their bodies have somehow touched meat. Anyway, don’t get me started on vegans.I whole-heartedly agree with Anthony Bourdain’s proclamation that vegans are “are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit.”
I don’t know how I feel about the people in the article itself. I consider myself pretty open-minded (except for when it comes to bananas) and I would never try to judge someone based on their eating habits. Then again, food makes up about 100% of my life, and I can’t think of anything more fun than going out to try a new restaurant. I’ve only met a couple picky eaters in my life and usually it’s just based on inexperience, but that doesn’t make them a bad, unlovable person. Except the thought of having to deal with their dietary restrictions would drive me insane, and I’d probably resort to violence. So what would I do??
It was an interesting experience going out with someone who refused to eat red meat for some reason I still can’t figure out (I think it was somehow bad for you? I don’t know), but it really did affect the way that I ate. I had to rethink everything I wanted to eat or order, because I was worried that having red meat on the table would somehow be annoying or gross. Plus, it was more fun to share your plate with the table at a restaurant and I couldn’t do that if I ordered the wrong meal. And dates to In-n-out were out of the question. (Wait, they still are…dammit!)
Overall, it wasn’t that big of a deal–except explaining to your red-meat-loving Japanese mother that your new boyfriend can’t eat her yummy roast beef.
But it’s funny how the tables have turned: now I’m the one who gets squeamish about food, cause Thai blood soup totally grosses me out, foie gras makes me want to scrape my tongue off and as yummy as oxtail is, it still makes me think I’m eating someone’s spine. I still don’t really know what offal is, but I probably wouldn’t feel good eating it. As much as I love eating those little red Chinese sausages, I try not to think of what exactly goes in them. And I’m the one who sits back to see what’s for dinner, or patiently waits with the shopping cart at the grocery store while we track down a nice rack of lamb.
Now, here’s what would make this relationship perfect: if only my boyfriend would love sugar and snacks as much as I do. That includes dulce de leche, cotton candy, funnel cake and sweet rice cakes. MMmmmm.
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