feed me

I play a game when my mind starts to wander in those unfamiliar social situations where I’m surrounded by people I’ve only just met. If for some reason I haven’t yet found those few folks from whom a whole world of conversation will emerge, and I’ve grown tired of looking, I play my game.

I watch people eat and I wonder about them in bed.

Not in a naked hyper porn kind of way. I have a theory that you can tell how a person is in bed by watching them eat. By watching how they choose and handle and consume food. What they decide they want to eat; what they decide they won’t. Whether they approach it with enthusiasm or like a dentist’s chair. Whether they’re curious, selective, investigative, or simply take the first lump to pass before them on a plate. Whether they wolf it down quickly or savour it slow.

Because I think if you can figure out how a person plays in bed, you can figure out a whole lot about how they tackle life.

My data set is small (she says modestly) so it’s not a proven theory. But it keeps me occupied, because I think our relationship to food says worlds about our relationship to life.

It’s a sensuous oral activity, of course, (eating is) and it shocks me a little (when I’m deep into playing my game) that we would conduct this activity in public. The way we consume and devour; the way we tear and slice and shovel and slurp. Think about it. You may never sit down to a meal with friends again without blushing.

But it’s not just the act of eating that reveals us to others. It’s how we’re oriented to food. This meal: are we going to relish it or choke it down because it's compulsory? How do we choose our dinner companions; how do we attend to them when they’re in our company? And what about the occasional solitary meal: do we savor the solitude, use the silence to better enjoy the sensation, or do we eat quickly and furtively, hoping no one spots our onanistic moment.

(And now you know entirely too much about me.)