Condeming Condiments; Problems with Food,Part 2

Why do people feel the need to smother their food with stuff? Food is good on its own. For example, condiments, and by that, I mean ketchup, mustard, relish, mayonnaise, hot sauce, vinegar, sour cream and salad dressings. I don’t eat them. They completely, stomach clenching, nausea inducing, lip curling, disgust me. I have no good reason for it. But if I had to pick whether to eat condiments or have my ass kicked, I would pick the beating.



I lost a relationship to my crazy freakish food behavior several years ago. I met Steve through a friend and it took approximately 3 hours for it to become a purely sexual meeting of the bodies. Steve and I were both divorced, had shared custody of our kids and had the same weekends free. Yes, we both liked sports, reading, and playing Scrabble, but without the weekend deal, it would have ended. Occasionally we went out to a hockey game, the movies or dinner but our main activity was sex. He was my friend with benefits. Our kids were never included in our time, we didn’t see each other between weekends and I never stayed the night. It was good. I wasn’t in love, but it was better than being alone.



It all ended on one beautiful summer afternoon. We went to the Saratoga Race Track and Steve taught me how to place bets. A cold cup of beer in my hand, a couple of extra bucks in my pocket and I was having fun, until he got hungry and bought a hot dog smothered in red ketchup, bright yellow mustard and deep green relish. It was so abundantly over filled, some even got on his hands, lips and chin. It was gross. I turned my face to avoid watching as he consumed it with gusto and then licked his fingers. “That was so good!” My lust fueled loins dried up immediately. I tried to rekindle it the rest of the day. I became more affectionate, held his hand, cuddled on a bench, and hours later sat next to him at dinner, but the vision of him eating the hot dog would not leave me. As our usual, after dinner, we headed for his house. Steve, not realizing where things were going, was an enthusiastic driver. His pump was primed from good beer, good food, and a good woman. And me, I was still fixated on ketchup, mustard, and relish. No amount of hand and face washing, tooth brushing, or mouth rinse was going to change it. We were done. Not able to explain it even to myself, I simply walked away. Alone was better than the thought of those soiled hands and mouth coming near my condiment pure body.

I like my food plain. There is no need to hide it with anything other than butter and maybe a little salt and pepper. They add no nutrients, only calories, salt, fat and red food dye #5. If you douse your food liberally near me or my eating space, I will move. That includes all those icky mayonnaise infused foods commonly confused with salads. And don’t even try explaining how ruining a lovely lobster by adding Hellman’s and slapping it into a hot dog bun makes it better. I feel strongly about this. Plain food is fine. I enjoy my food the way it was meant to be. And there is nothing wrong with having freaky food fetishes. Really.