I'll Just Have a Bite of Yours
“Wow. That really looks good, but it’s way more than I can eat. I’ll just have a bite of yours.” I had to admit what she wanted looked delicious. It was a double chocolate cake with a rich pudding middle and drizzled with thick chocolate syrup. I gained five pounds just by looking at it. However, it wasn’t the dessert I had been planning on ordering.
“Oh, what are you having?” Her voice had a disappointed tone. I had settled on a cherry smothered cheesecake with the syrup oozing off the sides and onto the plate. “Well, I’ll just have a bite of that then.”
I glanced down at the menu. The cheesecake wasn’t that big in the picture. “It looks too small for two people. If you want that chocolate dish, then get it, honey.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly eat all of that alone. I just wanted a bite of yours.” I had told her to go ahead and order her own, that it didn’t matter how much she ate. She couldn’t waste that much food, however, especially with starving kids in third world countries. I’m not sure what that had to do with anything, but parents have used it on children for decades, so it seems to be a conditioned response. My sharing a dessert wasn’t going to get food in someone’s stomach three time zones away.
The waitress came over and waited for our order. In the end I chose the dessert she wanted and “shared.” Of course, sharing meant that I lost half my dessert as her “just a bite” was really several. It wasn’t too bad since I didn’t want that chocolate waist spreader, anyway.
If I’m not having food stolen from me, I’m having it dumped on my plate. When the girls can’t finish something they assume I’m going to want to eat it. My plate gets piled high with half a burger, leftover steak, or a quarter of a baked potato. I’m amazed that I even want dessert when it’s all said and done. Apparently my devouring their leftovers helps them resist because it’s my job to get the offending food out of sight before they nibble away on it.
Men eat while women pretend they never do. I don’t know if they think they’re fooling us or what, but we know women consume food because there are items in the fridge that we would never purchase. Men do not voluntarily buy turkey bacon. Why? Because it’s not bacon! To be honest, I’m not even sure if it classifies as turkey. Even the girls have ceased calling it bacon and have started referring to it as breakfast meat, which sounds ominous at best. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m all about eating healthy. However, there is a limit to what I will sacrifice. Real bacon is one of those things.
Ice cream is another. When I ask for a bowl of Chunky Monkey, I mean a real bowl. I do not mean a shot glass. I want a dish, not a sample. I really hate it when people try to determine how much fills up my tank or what I need in the consumption department. My belly will tell me when it’s had enough and if it’s more than you think I should eat, oh well. It doesn’t need outside assistance or your judgment. Grant it, there are people who need that help as they lack any self-control, but I am not one of them, so please leave my dessert alone.
One of the great pleasures in life is the food we eat, the flavors, the textures, the whole dining with friends experience. While it may be romantic to share a dessert, it is not filling. I’ll buy flowers, enjoy a midnight stroll along the beach, and even sacrifice my jacket in the middle of a storm. However, if you wish to share desserts we’re still buying two and we’ll divide up both. I see no sense in swinging into McDonald’s for a couple of McDoubles after a $100 dinner because I’m still hungry.
Men and women view food differently. Women see it as something to be sampled in small dainty bites with feminine grace. Men see it as something to be devoured with caveman grunts and complimentary belches afterward. It’s really a night and day comparison. To women it’s a ballet while men experience it as a football game. For the most part men will eat just about anything that’s placed in front of us as long as it’s real meat and there’s plenty of it. While men don’t mind sharing their tools, we want to keep our desserts to ourselves. Really, it’s okay to order your own. We won’t think any less of you. Actually, we’ll be so happy to have our own dessert we’ll even buy you more flowers.
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