Of meat and men
I’ll refrain from making the obvious meat/sausage-fest jokes in this post. After all, I’m 32, not 23 (most of the time).
There are few weeks in which I don’t have to explain, at least once, what my eating preferences are. I grew up on a vegetarian diet of fresh fruit, vegetables, beans, legumes and a plethora of grains. Since those years, I have more or less maintained my vegetarianism, though I am more likely to call myself a “pescetarian” or (jokingly) a “flexi-tarian” (as my mostly-vegetarian-with-occasional-fish diet is supplemented by an bi-annual burger).
The bottom line: moderation is the name of my game. I rarely get drunk, and even more rarely enjoy it when I do. I play this odd game with myself, called “What would it be like if I moved to _____?” (name of random country) And I know that if I had to relocate, tomorrow, to a Muslim country where alcohol was prohibited, I wouldn’t be concerned. I don’t smoke, though I did in my college years, and infrequently experience the so-called benefits of getting high. Given an open schedule, I enjoy exactly 9 hours of sleep, so all-nighters and 4-hour nights are merely tolerated while I survive graduate school. In fact, the only thing extreme about my life is my addiction to Facebook.
I know that it’s unlikely that I’ll end up in a relationship with a vegetarian, unless I become a lesbian (seriously; in a large-scale study of vegetarians, only 32% were men while 68% were women). I have dated vegetarians: a Canadian Seventh-day Adventist; a Taiwanese atheist (Paul) who became vegetarian for animal rights; an African-American Seventh-day Adventist athlete; an Indian man who grew up Hindu. An atheist guy friend of mine is vegan. I have also dated wannabe vegetarians, like Edgar, whose travels and tendency for empathy nearly led him to vegetarianism if it weren’t for his love of all things beef. Or Bob, a Taiwanese-American man who took on vegetarianism after he became interested in me, then dropped it after I broke up with him.
Then there was this one guy I dated last summer. Or rather, went on two dates with. He was considerate, creative, and photographed for and wrote a blog about STEAK. Not just steak, but also burgers, barbecuing, bacon, and anything that involved buckets of butter (brioche, anyone?)…
I know what some of you may be thinking: “He cooks, and takes pretty photos, and gosh-darn-it, I love steak and eggs.” If that’s you and you live in southern California, by all means, email me and I’ll see what I can do to introduce the two of you. He’s a likable man, but when I saw the blog, I knew I had reached my limit. I could love the man, but there was no way I could love what he ate.
So I have to see moderation in the man I choose. If he’s carnivorous, I have two requests: to never cook meat for him and if he must bring meat into the house, to have it in the kitchen for no more than a day. I don’t think this will be a problem; I’ve never had a complaint about my cooking, which is creative and full of flavor.
Now (I haven’t done one of these in a while) a poll!