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My wife and I are lucky to live in a town where we have built a strong circle of lesbian friends. There’s always someone to call on if we need help or just an ear to bend or want to see a movie with a group of fun folks. This group tries to get together for dinner on a weekly basis. There’s really no pressure–if you can make it, fine, if not, come the next week, or next month. That’s the great thing about groups of lesbians, in my experience, you’re always welcome.

But here’s the thing. When did lesbians get so damn picky about their food? I mean, really! All right, in any group of lesbians you are bound to find a few vegetarians. That I understand. But when we go out for a meal it’s, “Is this fried?” “Does this have onions?” “Is there any garlic in this?” “Was this cooked on a solar stove under the light of the full moon?” Well, okay, I made that last one up, but you get the idea.

It’s like going to a seafood restaurant and complaining that the friend chicken is bad. Or going to a Mexican restaurant and asking for steak.

I understand that people may have genuine food allergies and need to be careful, but please, people, on the whole, it’s not going to kill you if you eat something friend or with onions in it once in a great while. If you’re going to go into such a tizzy over ingredients, maybe it would be better if you stayed home.

My wise mother, Goddess rest her soul, always said that the more food hang-ups a person had, the more personality hang-ups they would have as well.

I have to say, in this case, Mom was right!

Grumpy Granny

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