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Sometimes I’ll go out with a big group for dinner or brunch and someone healthy gets a “voice” during the ordering. They’ll start asking about getting big salads for the table or wondering (out loud) if we ordered too many appetizers. Sometimes they’ll even ask if it’s worth it to get a bottle of wine when some people at the table are getting cocktails. It’s at that point that I start to rage from within. I’m literally in my head screaming. If you looked at me closely, you’d see one hand holding a butter knife and the other hand holding down that hand’s wrist. I imagine every spiral into insanity started with someone saying, “We don’t need another bread basket.” If I had more balls I’d scream out that nobody came to this Italian restaurant for a big salad. That there’s no such thing as too many appetizers and I’d cut that person before I cut the lobster mac. That normal people do very abnormal things like not eat all day so that they can eat a lot at a restaurant. That healthy person should just leave and take their healthy agenda with them because you can’t be everything. And you definitely cannot be healthy and fun.
If you’re sitting there thinking, “Well, I’m pretty healthy” then you’re no fun at all. If you’re thinking, “I’m a fun dude,” then you’re not healthy. You have to choose one. You know who’s “fun?” The guy who goes with you to a sub place and agrees that getting a third sandwich to split is a good idea (that’s called a friendship sandwich). The one who laughs at the idea of the gym on a hungover Sunday and cracks a beer in the guy who suggested the gym’s face. The guy who, when everyone’s done ordering brunch, beckons the waitress and says, “Also, we’ll do a couple orders of chocolate chip and banana pancakes to whack up for the table.” The guy who goes to class or work on a Monday morning, gets a second to think about the weekend, and a cold chill goes down his spine as he regrets every decision he’s ever made. Table-Pancake-Whack-Up-Monday-Morning-Suicide-Watch-Guy is fucking fun. Those are the people I want as my friends. Those are the guys I want as my groomsmen. That is the woman I want to marry.
By the way, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be healthy. Just do healthy on your own time. Salads aren’t meant for a get together with friends. You eat a salad in a dimly lit room while staring at a wall as a crow caws somewhere off in the distance. Salads aren’t for playtime; they should feel like work. And if it’s really so hard to go without healthy stuff at group events, then don’t go to the group events. Nobody wants you there. It’s your time to leave Karen. I’ve never found healthy people to be an attractive hangout. I’ve never heard a guy say, “Hey dudes! Let’s have a smoothie, hike a mountain, and then be honest to women!” and thought he was someone I need to get to know. I don’t even know if that person knows what a fun time is. He probably talks a lot about a certain brand of tea he thinks is delicious. No thank you, sir. Tea is never “delicious.” It’s smelly hot water.
This isn’t meant to shame healthy people as much as it is to warn them. Don’t expect anyone’s support. Being healthy is a solo sport. It’s tennis. Sure, doubles happens, but if they aren’t brothers, we assume they’re a gay couple. As a person who struggles with his weight and eating and trying to look presentable every day, I have to split my time between healthy and fun. I’ve learned that healthy times and fun times are done during two different parts of the day. When people want to have fun they don’t want to be brought down by your salad order. When people want to enjoy your company they don’t want to hear about a 5k you’re prepping for next week. It’s why a room will collectively groan when you say that you’re not drinking tonight. You just reminded them of reality. You’re a walking, talking Monday morning and nobody needs that on a Saturday night..