Taste buds are like a sexual preference; you can’t control what you enjoy. If it looks good or tastes good, then you want it. And nobody should be offended by these biological preferences. So why is my wife offended by my taste buds?
I love peaches and nectarines. Every couple weeks my wife comes home with a bundle of them, and every day I take one to work. Normally they are as juicy and tasty as… well, amazing fruit, I guess. Who am I, Charles Dickens? I don’t have an adjective or analogy for everything.
In the rare occasion that the fruit isn’t too ripe I let my wife know. And such was the case the other day. Her reaction was not what I expected. She was apologetic.
“I’m sorry! Did I pick the wrong ones?!”
“Honey, it’s not YOUR fault.”
Bad fruit is like a wolf in sheep’s skin; seemingly harmless on the outside, yet evil within (#ANALOGY!). Whether it’s rotten or has a worm inside, you can’t know unless you cut into it or, worse, bite.
So honey, it’s not you. It’s the stupid farmer’s fault.
Then the next day I received a worse reaction. My wife had slow-cooked chicken drumsticks during the day, and then served them for dinner. I went to the fridge to grab mustard and hot sauce because… that’s what normal men do. With the mustard and hot sauce on the corner of my plate, I swirled them together. I had to do this somewhat secretly because, well… if you have a wife like mine you would know. And if you don’t, here’s what happened…
I get back to the dinner table with my mustard and hot sauce combo, knowing I would eventually get caught. And as I grab a drumstick and dip it into the hot mustard, I hear a screeching voice in my ear.
“NOOOOOO!” my wife yells. “Don’t ruin my chicken with mustard!”
It’s important to note that when she said “my chicken” she meant the chicken that she made on MY PLATE. Technically speaking, at that point it was my chicken, and not hers. But back to the point…
Some wives and snobby chefs around the world hate when people use condiments, such as ketchup or mustard, on their meals. They feel that such an act is classless. Or that it’s a sign that the person doesn’t like the meal in its natural form. But for me, I honestly really, REALLY like ketchup and mustard, regardless if the meal is well cooked. And honestly, who cares if I add a condiment to my meal? I’m the one eating it. That’s why it’s called MY meal, not YOUR meal.
So honey, it’s not your meal. It’s just that I love ketchup and mustard.
Don’t make me feel guilty about my taste buds. Just as I don’t make you feel guilty for gushing at Brad Pitt on the cover of GQ Magazine. You just can’t help but fall in love with those dreamy eyes.
That’s the same feeling I get when I look at my mustard-hot sauce combo.