When a man asks me out to dinner, I instantly panic. My palms sweat. My mouth dries. And my tummy flip flops at the thought of choosing a meal to satiate my particular taste buds. I am one of the pickiest eaters you will ever meet, which makes it incredibly difficult to be excited by a dinner date. Just writing about it unnerves me!
How picky am I? Let’s see if I can break it down. I don’t like mushy foods, including bananas, flan, or mashed potatoes. Due to my issues with texture, I don’t dip anything in anything. No ketchup on fries. No dressing on greens (whenever I eat them which is rare). No mustard or mayonnaise or salsa. I don’t even pour milk in cereal because I hate soggy flakes!
Aside from texture, there is also the issue with food touching each other. If you ever serve me a plate, the lasagna better not touch the tostones or bread or pernil on the plate! It is that serious. Then there’s the lack of greens in my diet. Honestly, I cannot stand the taste of vegetables. They taste like grass and I don’t even like the smell or feel of grass on my skin. So how am I supposed to eat grass?!
As you can see, I have issues. This is why whenever a man asks me out to dinner I say, “Ok. But I’m really, really picky!” The guy often laughs it off. He thinks it’s so cute that I don’t eat condiments! Then, months later, shit gets serious. He’s upset because I don’t want to try sushi.
“The fish isn’t cooked!” I scream. “It’s like eating something straight from the sea!” I rationalize.
“How about lobster?” He pushes.
“Lobster? It looks like a roach! I’m not eating a roach!” I holler, terriifed at the thought.
“Will you atleast eat the beans instead of picking them out?”
“No! I’ve always been this way and you can’t change me!” I state, shaking my head stubbornly.
Eventually, the man gives up and refuses to take me out to dinner. Fine by me, I retort. I like home cooking anyway. And with that he shakes his head in disapproval, wondering what the he’ll he got himself into. I don’t pity him at all. “I warned you!” I reprimand. I was honest about it all. He nods, replaying the conversation in his mind, wondering if he’ll have to live off dry pancakes and french fries for the rest of his life.
Yeah. He will.