Let them eat their own discrete piece of cake

I recently married another dude so by most measures, I’m pretty gay. But there is one gay metric that I do not at all follow.

I do not share dessert.

I was watching David Sedaris on The Daily Show and he said you could tell the difference between gay men and straight men because the gays will share a piece of cake. If you ever see Steve and me in a restaurant, you would assume we are straight cousins. This is because we each require our own piece of cake.

Tell you what: You order your own piece of cake and I’ll order my own piece. Oh, you say you can’t finish yours? Not my problem, honey. Why should I eat less than I want just because you can’t finish a little piece of cake? Eat it, don’t eat it, get a doggie bag. I don’t care. Just let me eat my cake. I will finish my dessert. I very rarely need a doggie bag. What can I say? I’m a big boy.

I do not at all believe in that nonsense romantic notion that couples should share food. First, it’s difficult with us because if Steve playfully stole a bite of my steak, he’d be in for a very unpleasant evening. You can have a bite of something if you ask but you’re sure as hell not getting half.

That’s the key: If you ask. Don’t ever think it’s cute to playfully take something off my plate without asking. You’ll end up in the emergency room getting treated for the puncture marks on the back of your hand from my fork.

I’m not kidding.

This is why I don’t like family style restaurants. I am so picky about food that I will invariably get screwed in a situation where someone says “Let’s order a bunch of appetizers and split them.” Half that food will be food I can’t stand and I’ll end up unsatisfied when I could have just ordered my own food and enjoyed it.

I’m like an animal: Don’t mess with me while I’m eating.