Ohhh, The Things We Do For Our Women

I don't like seafood.

I made that expressly clear in the early stages of my relationship with my fiancée. So, of course, what did her girlfriend ears translate that to her brain as when I told her?

He must have some seafood.

It was actually quite interesting, kind of like a psychiatrist she asked me several questions about why I did not like seafood. My answers were that I did not like the general texture of seafood, I don't like the smell of seafood, I don't like the look of seafood... in short: I don't like seafood. What did her ears translate that to her brain as?

MUST. Have. Seafood.

Though, to her credit, she did ask me if she could, perhaps, persuade me to try some. To which, at the time, because I was all googly-eyed over her (heh... as if I am any different now), I reluctantly said "Yesssss...." So... my very first in-person visit with her in March 2012 we went to a restaurant called Top O' The River... and she had me try some catfish.

I will admit... it was okay at best. Definitely not something I felt the need to eat a lot of, but I could see myself having it every now and again.

Since then I had escaped any further attempts by her to get me to try seafood. Almost made it through the year... until this last visit over Christmas break.

She's lucky I think she's so dadgum purdy...

On the night of her last day here in Jersey I took her to a local Italian restaurant called Venice where I ordered lasagna, which... was out of this heckin' world, I will have you know. Seriously, I can be pretty biased when it comes to lasagna, because I love my family's recipe so much. But this... this was absolutely deevine. And Julia...? Well... Julia got spaghetti and clams. I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. There she was, eating it up, when suddenly she locks eyes with me, and holding me in her stupid irresistible gaze asks...

"Do you want to try some?"

At first I thought I could reject the question, I gave a simple "Nah..." But of course, with an almost puppy-dog like glare from her blue-grey eyes she remarked:

"You're not even going to try it?"

Stupidstupidstupid. How in heck's sake could I refuse that. Plus, in saying that she reminded me that, as a cook I do make it a point to try anything and everything at least once. I mean... how do I know I don't like it if I don't even know what it tastes like. Sooooo, reluctantly I received the clam-laden fork from her, and popped it into my mouth.

Look at it. Look at it, I say. Disgusting, isn't it.

As I remarked, as I chewed it.... It was... interesting. The taste itself wasn't too bad. But the texture was pretty disgusting. It felt like chewing on a piece of rubber, or a wad of bubblegum that you have been chewing for way too long. Plus there was this little imagination in my mind... what if it suddenly started moving and wriggling around. I almost gagged, but kept control and swallowed it with an awkward smile.

It really wasn't bad. Just such a weird texture. All seafood has such a weird texture. Sheesh. Maybe if it wasn't so weird to eat I would like it.

Anyway, I am sure a lot of guys are shaking their heads reading this, knowing or remembering full well what it's like to be in this kind of situation where you really don't have much hope in refusing a request from your woman to try some type of food that you really don't want to try.

Ohhh, the things we do for our women.

If heaven could be contained in food...

By the way, this is a picture of the lasagna. And yes... it was every bit as amazing as it looks. Why chew on rubber when you can have this, I ask. Why? WHY!?

I don't know.

But this I do know... I don't believe my attitude toward seafood will change anytime soon. Though, of course, that won't stop me from trying it... because I know I'm going to try more of it.

She will see to that.