How it all ve-gan

31 05 2009

A Catholic carnivore and a Vegan Jew were standing in a pizza joint one day, debating about where to eat.  After some debate, the vegan says, “I don’t eat anything with a hear-t.” The carnivore replies, ‘Well how about artichokes?”.artichoke

What should have been a knee-slapper of a moment turned into awkward-city which then led to the carnivore being taken to an organic coffee to shop to pay for overpriced cheesecake where an ex’s vehicle was later spotted. Or, a date from hell.

And thus was my first introduction to someone who would become legendary for the rest of my friends’ and mine life. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call this person the Epileptic Vegan Jew.

I met EVJ in a “social” club in college that I attended with a devout friend in order to score a date. EVJ liked Fahrenheit 451, I just so happened to fake an interest. Lo and behold, dinner plans were made.

All seemed well, and normal enough, until EVJ dropped the five letter word whilst standing in a perfectly delicious pizza shop.

“I’m vegan,” EVJ said.

“What is a vegan?” I said.

“I don’t eat anything with a face. Or a heart.”

“Well how about artichokes.”

Silence.

Oh shit.

Not even yogurt. WTF.govegan After a ridiculously shitty evening that culminated with me trying to throw myself in a fireplace while EVJ ate some kind of gluten-free cheesecake, I vowed, no more vegans.

Until the bike messenger came along. Not again.

Again, they didn’t drop the V-word until we were contemplating a meal choice. Why wait until that moment, when you’re hungry and undoubtedly have to compromise. I say, say it up front. Some people won’t date republicans. Yankees fans won’t date Bo-Sox fans. Carnivores, as a rule, should not date Vegans. This is nature.

I should have been tipped off about this veganism by a few things. Bike Messenger was really thin, and perpetually smelled like garlic. And knitted. A lot. Thick-rimmed glasses too. A tell-tale sign. Ah, I was so blind.

Then the moment of truth. Debating about dinner until we picked an Indian restaurant in Squirrel Hill. I assumed as an Indian restaurant, there would be delicious meats. But nay. NAY. it was a three-dish kind of place, each with a certain amount of curry….and nothing but chickpeas. Fine, I assumed. It’s an Indian thing. We took the muck, I mean  curried chickpeas to the park where I heard the infamous words, “I’m a vegan.” My heart/stomach sank. Oh shit.

It only got worse after that. As if I hadn’t suffered enough, I was forced to eat at a vegan-only restaurant where the only thing I understood on the menu was this devilish item called soysage. It is as gross as it sounds. It’s even grosser when you are forced to wash it down with WARM GINGER “SODA.”

tall-hamburger The only saving grace to the Bike Messenger Garlic-Smelling Vegan was that they lived within a five-minute radius of a McDonalds. But eventually, the veganism became too much. Have you ever smelled “natural deodorant?” Don’t. It smells like armpits.

After three months of off and on suffering with the vegan, it was decision time.  The night   came. The vegan didn’t drink but tonight, tonight my friends, the booze was OK. So Bike Messenger gets sloppy drunk and cannot bicycle home (wtf) and I am forced to be the designated driver. Bike in the trunk, vegan in the van, I head home thinking, maybe tonight, tonight will be different. After an incredibly disappointing three hours that ended with me hauling the vegan’s bicycle in the shitty, artistic house, I left in the midle of the night under the rouse of “I’m going running.”

Bike Messenger never asked why I would do such a crazy thing at 3 a.m., especially without     pants. But thank god the McDonalds nearby was open 24-hours. It was a sweet victory going through the drivethrough, pantsless.

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2 responses

31 05 2009
Shannon

Classic. And smelly. “Natural” deodorant is just silly, as the one wearing it smells even worse than if they actually went eau natural.

Gross.

2 06 2009
Jess

I hope you don’t mind that the title of this page was made in Illustrator… Is that OK?

AHH… EVJ, how I love thee.

And how I also love that you wrote something about EVJ on my wedding photo frame. Thanks.

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