Last night we were running short on time. We happened to be up at Bloor and Bathurst, so I suggested we have Hero (veggie) burgers. Pete made a slightly funny face, but it didn’t seem like it was one of those times when he was thinking, “Eiko I don’t really feel like that but I can’t think of anything else so I GUESS we’ll go with your weird and healthy suggestion that doesn’t involve any brown food.” (He’s always awfully nice about it, but it happens now and then.) In fact, he looked sort of gleeful, if slightly hesitant.
Not having the energy to tease out whatever conflicted emotions he was experiencing, I strutted away in the direction of soy patties and onion rings.
After dinner, I asked Pete what he’d had for lunch. He made the same face.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Did it involve dairy?” (We don’t usually eat dairy.)
He shook his head.
“Wait. Did you eat…meat?”
“Just tell me.”
“I had Hero Burger for lunch. With fries.”
“You ate the exact same thing for dinner as you did for lunch? Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “You seemed so excited about it.”
I’m not sure why he was so embarrassed; this is a man who once ate twelve (12) Pillsbury Crescent Rolls and two (2) packages of Rice-A-Roni in one sitting.