Once you're accepted into the family, precautions must be made
I must’ve made a good impression on my girl’s parents because I was invited for another dinner. But this time, I took digestive tablets and meditated for days leading up to the big event.
The night went pretty smoothly, until after dinner when her dad caught us cuddling in our underwear. There was some yelling in Italian, I tried to climb out onto the roof, her dad sat me down for a drink, we had some more drinks, we started dancing... it was a wild night.
These Italian dinners became manageable until wedding season came around. I don’t know how it’s possible, but Italians get married more than everyone else. And so I was penciled in for several of them.
Italian weddings are nine courses of suffering for guys like me. I noticed the fiery parallels with Dante’s Inferno, which I just happened to be reading in one of my classes at the time.
Even without these ceremonies, I couldn’t survive this abuse. I didn’t know what to do. As an awkward teenager, my options were to continue on this destructive path or break up with Brittany.
And finally, lines must be drawn
I digested the idea for a couple of days. Brittany and her family had my heart, but I couldn’t afford to give them my stomach. So, I ended things.
I think Brittany's mom was most heartbroken of any of us. The lady ultimately wanted nothing more than for me to gorge on her food, and I wanted nothing more than to grow fat and happy by her side.
A few years later, I reignited my love affair with cheese and gluten. Let’s be real: there was no way I would avoid pizza and pasta for the rest of my life. My stomach and I have decided it’s worth all the pain -- at least, in small doses.
This stubborn diet choice means I’m once again open to dating women with exotic food backgrounds. Find me on Twitter, ladies.