Food.

Hello, I’m back. Things have been hectic. Thanks to my wisdom teeth and the medication that goes with it I’ve been starving, in pain, tired, and overall cranky for the last week. Thanks to midterms, most of my time I haven’t spent asleep I’ve spent studying or doing work. Blogging, unfortunately, had to take a backseat.

But I’m back, and ready to talk about food. Why food? Because I’m starving, and if I have to eat another yogurt with a baby spoon I might actually scream.

Introverts like me hate going out to eat. I mean, social interaction is already one point against it, and social interaction outside my bedroom? Really asking a lot of me there.

It’s stressful from beginning to end: “Where do you wanna go?” “I don’t care, wherever you want to go.” “Are you hungry hungry, or just kind of hungry?” Seriously. My heart goes out to vegetarian/food allergy/picky eater introverts everywhere, this part of the event must be 10x worse.

Then we get there. “How many?”

How many? How many?! You’re counting in your head, onetwothreefourfi–and of course your friend has “Seven” right on the tip of her tongue. You’re led in, no big deal, and now you have to order. Drinks, no big deal. Food is where the trouble is.

Since I can’t eat and apparently feel like torturing myself, lets pretend you decide on something absolutely delicious and reasonably priced. If you don’t, again, 10x worse, but let’s say you do. One problem, it has onions, and you hate onions.

Well, what now? Do you ask for them off? No. Never, nothing could ever make that okay. So, you’ll pick them off and pray nobody asks why you didn’t just ask for no onions.

Food ordered, menus collected. Small talk time. My God. Thank goodness you have seven people here, if there were less it’d be even worse. If there were more, to be fair, it’d be even worse than worse. 10x worse.

You survive. What feels like years later your food arrives. Do I speak while chewing or make everyone wait? Do I ask for a refill on my soda? I need a sharper knife…power through, power through. Don’t hold your fork like that.

You’re in the clear. The food is eaten. You ate just the right amount. And then. Oh God. The check.

Eating out is a nightmare, but a nightmare we must all endure. It is fun, or can be in the right environment. Right now I think I’d go anywhere on Earth if it didn’t hurt my mouth.

I guess the message is, don’t take things for granted. Like chewing. And waitresses kind enough to ask first if you want to change anything. And delivery pizza.

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