Comestible Coercion
On two separate occasions today, I was essentially coerced into eating when I did not want to. A soft coercion, you may be sure —delivered by two of the women in my life— but bullysome, anyhow.
The first woman is a lady I know from work who very much wanted me to go get her lunch from a nearby hamburger joint. She had a two-for-one coupon and didn’t flinch when I reminded her of the wonderfulness of their onion rings. But it was early yet and I hadn’t really been done with my breakfast all that long before. I didn’t want to go, but what the hell? She could go and get it herself, but we’re already clear on the fact that I am Her Sap and have been for some time. Who knows why such soft sadism and somewhat harder masochism is the coin of our silly realm?
So I go and get the burgers. And the onion rings. It was her birthday yesterday, see.
The second woman is my mother. She wanted to meet for dinner after I got off work. But I had literally just finished eating my lunch when she called to make that plan and I didn’t want to think about food at just that moment. Amazing for a great big fat man, but it is so! And, really, I was thinking I might eat later on in the evening after a certain project around here got worked on. One way or the other, though, we were going to eat, even if we hadn’t yet settled on a restaurant.
And why was it so important for her to have dinner with her son? Just so she could share her generosity, even refusing to let me touch the bill! But I had already repaid her by interrogating her over a particular point and probably angering her a little bit. Not for long, though. I love my mother and I just want her to be happy. In fact, she gets a residual check every time that sentiment gets expressed to or for any of her boys, so I may as well get in on the racket, too.
As my Daddy used to say, some of us just can’t stand the prosperity.
