I once dated a guy who ate every meal like it was his last. He brought his face to about a millimetre above his plate, taking little to no breaks in between each bite and engaging in full conversation while doing so. As we became more comfortable in our relationship, he became less conscious of his table manners. We will call this person, Death Row Meal.
I can often become irritated around loud chewers and messy eaters. I do not know where or when this started but I do know this experience was a pivotal moment and the sole reason that I have deemed an “eating date” as a necessity during the dating process in order to rule out the wolves.
About a week before our relationship ended, I bought Death Row Meal and I Raptors tickets for his birthday. We went out for dinner before the game and he ordered chicken wings. Our table was pretty much in the middle of the restaurant so we were surrounded by other people. When the chicken wings arrived was when our relationship began to crumble. I was terrified to say the least. I felt like every table around us was watching as my boyfriend was covered head to toe in Buffalo sauce, stripping each wing and leaving them naked and vulnerable. I could not watch. I had to keep my head down and look anywhere else but directly in front of me. As we left, he asked if I was okay to which I replied absolutely with excitement and tried to shake off the murder I had witnessed at the dinner table. I figured it was all going to be fine now that food was no longer involved and we could have a good night from here. Unfortunately for both of us, the night only got worse.
I would like to take this time to insert an aside about my stance on sports fans. I am not naive to the passion and love that people have for their favourite team. I too enjoy going to sporting events and getting into the game and so by no means is this story meant to be an attack on passionate sports fans. What I will say is that I believe there is a point where passion can start to cross the line into the territory of annoyance. And that is what happened in this particular situation.
Once Death Row Meal and I got settled in our seats and began watching the game, I could not have regretted my decision to buy those tickets more. He was easily the loudest person in our section, screaming and clapping every time something happened. And hey, I understand the excitement of being there to watch your favourite team, but this was like something I had never seen before. He might as well have been dressed up in the mascot outfit or sitting court side with the Raptors Super Fan.
The worst part of it all happened when the T-Shirt Cannon came out. Death Row Meal got out of his seat, waved his arms around and screamed, “OVER HEREEEEE!!!” And he did not rest until the cannon’s were empty and the crew was going on break. I had never heard his voice hit that octave. It was as if he was drowning, flailing his arms and screaming for help.
Now listen. I am aware that others might not find this display of passion to be as bothersome as I did. I do not like attention to be brought onto me in settings like this. I don’t appreciate loud talkers or public displays of affection to a certain degree and so this performance by Death Row Meal was particularly irritating for me.
When Death Row Meal sat back down, he could tell that I was unimpressed. We spent a portion of the game in silence and another portion quietly bickering. I ultimately was the one to apologize for making him feel bad about his passion for the Raptors.
Not long after this, we broke up. I initiated the break up and Death Row Meal did not see it coming. He was distraught and I lived with the guilt of breaking his heart over FaceTime for months after. In my defence, he had left the country.
My reasons for the break up were not entirely because of this night as there were other fundamental issues with our relationship that held more weight and made us incompatible. However, I whole heartedly believe that everything changed the second he picked up that first chicken wing. I knew in that moment that though I might be able to forgive, I would never forget. I really do hope he enjoyed his last meal.