Why I Married A Meat Eater

Very clever, Pines Lake Redhead. Not only did you name all 4 movies with a little help of your commenting predecessors, but you came up with a challenging title for this post. And I have two answers, a serious one and a not so serious one, both of which are true.

Before I continue, the movies were:

1. The Princess Bride. Of course my fave of all time.
2. The Goonies. A classic--love it that D-Man enjoys it just as much as I did.
3. Stand by Me. This story is at once funny, sad, thoughtful...haven't seen it in years. Must rent.
4. Say Anything.  Maybe not a classic for everyone, but who could resist Lloyd Dobbler?

So here we go: Why I Married A Meat Eater.

Serious:

As a vegetarian of 17 years, I’ve heard it all. Two of the most frequent lines are:

• “Why do you eat plants, they’re alive too?” (That is HILARIOUS! If I only had a freaking dime for every time I hear that.)
• “Hmmmm. Do you wear leather?” (Nope. Sorry you didn’t “get” me on that one.)

Contrary to the conclusion that many people seem to draw on their own from the moment they hear “vegetarian,” I don’t make any judgments on people for choosing to eat meat. I don’t lecture people about why it’s a choice for me. And I don’t even discuss it unless someone asks me “why.” Then I have a quick and simple answer to share, knowing if people want more, they’ll ask.

In short, I’ve learned that much more explanation—especially unsolicited—yields the unintended result of making people believe that vegetarians are “moral high horse” elitists.

Now of course I didn’t set out purposely to marry a meat eater; you can’t help you love. And for a world riddled with craziness, I could do a lot worse with character traits.

When I met Husb over 10 years ago, he was working as a chef and prided himself on the art of preparing a beautiful meal. He went to all lengths possible to break the barriers of edible cuisine without delving into what’s most comfortable: those carvings of beef, chicken, sausage, and whatever other muscles and intestines most of the populace eats.

It was pretty impressive. In truth, our marriage had little to do with food of course, but our relationship was comfortable from the very beginning because he honored this facet of me from the very start, while never making unintended promises to one day stop eating meat himself.  To this day, we either eat a meatless dinner, or have two similar dinners—one with meat and one without.

It works out pretty nicely because he knew from the beginning vegetarianism was a strong conviction and he hasn’t tried to slip in the chicken broth on even one occasion.

Not so serious:

Husb and I share the knowledge that a seventh food group exists: the Cheeto Group. This was a commonality we found right from the beginning. No one can pound a daily bag of Cheetos like the two of us, and for this, I can forgive even the meatiest atrocity. Did you know that in 2008, a Jesus-like Cheeto was discovered, since dubbed Cheesus?  Cheesus, if this common ground doesn't bind two people together, what does?