Something about this NYTimes piece rubbed me the odd way. (Yes, I meant it that way.) My friend sent me this link to the latest Salon Broadsheet in which Rebecca Traister basically sets it all right out there.

OK. So for those of you following along: Selecting a food to eat on a date because you have calculated that ordering it (provided that you are thin) will give the impression that you do not have food issues? That’s a food issue.

Since when is it so lame to order a salad. And if someone is not going to date you because you’re a vegetarian then move on. Of course, this is all easy for me to say, perhaps, but I have not heard of any broken up relationships over someone’s reluctance to order a burger, let alone a gourmet burger.

Or maybe it’s just August and there ain’t much to write about. Because, you know, it summer and all and I’m busy trying to be dainty yet not picky at the same time.

Maybe I should reread The Rules.

The overlying point here seems to be if you want a date, you can’t be yourself. Because what if you really, really want chicken? Then what the eff do you do?