I’ve always been an adventurous eater. My husband, Zach, not so much. It has taken me the better part of ten years to lure him away from his tacos and Top Ramen diet, but I did succeed. I thought we were in a good place that fateful day I took him to a vegan restaurant. I ran the idea past him while we were in Tucson, said I read about it in a magazine. Reluctantly, he agreed, and we were on our way.
While we were being seated he began to look uneasy. I pointed to the wall where they had all of their awards hanging proudly. “How bad could it be? Look at all of their awards,” I said. He didn’t seem impressed. I was over-selling it so I dialed it back. I think that all of the rail-thin, middle-aged women and young hipster couples made him nervous.
We received our menus, and it didn’t get any better. I found something right away, while he, on the other hand, was picking the lesser of two evils. I nervously pointed out that they had broccoli cheddar soup, which seemed to calm him down, and he ordered it with a Philly “cheese steak” sandwich. I felt relieved until the soup came. With the first spoonful, he looked at me and through his teeth said, “There isn’t any cheese in this soup.” There was, just not the kind made with milk and such. I kept my mouth shut. He kept eating it, which in hindsight was good, considering what happened next. My food was great—crispy tofu with stir-fried veggies and brown rice (it was better than it sounds), and Zach’s sandwich looked delicious. He somewhat agreed and dove in.
Things were going well until half-way through his sandwich he began spitting out his food furiously. It was then I noticed the extra-long hair he happened to be pulling out of his mouth from between the bread of that no meat, Philly cheese-less, cheese steak sandwich. I assured him that it was probably one of his own and to not freak out, but the damage was done. I’ll be lucky if I’ll ever be able to grace the door of another alternative eatery again. No meat, no way.
In hindsight, it probably wasn’t Zach’s hair. I knew it when he found it, and so did he. I’m glad he kept his cool. While walking through the parking lot, however, I did vow to never make him do that again. No fight from me; the hair made it easy.