I don’t usually post much about my relationship with mikey. Some things are just nobody’s business and I’d hate it if he blogged about how I had a hormonal meltdown over a bad pedicure yesterday and stomped around the house like a spoiled asshole godzilla. Some things are just… privileged.

But a conversation about German food with Kathy just now had me thinking about one of mike’s little peccadilloes… he’s a picky eater.

This sometimes poses an issue for me, The Girl Who Will Eat Just About Anything But Marzipan. It can be frustrating when your other half won’t stray from their four food groups: Pizza, Burgers, Mexican Food, and Pasta.

No fish (which isn’t uncommon), but also no fruit, none. No fresh fruit, no cooked fruit, no fruit in dessert. Nyet fruit. Except blueberries, but only if they’re in muffins or pancakes. Like, once a year I can get him to chug down a blackberry yogurt, but the rest of the time, it’s a fruit-free zone. Also, no vegetables — well, a few: corn, mushrooms, broccoli and sometimes green beans… if the planets are aligned and we’re having steak.

Now, to his credit, the things he does like, I happen to like, too. (Mmmm… mexican food…)  But I also have a more varied palette, so I get sick of those things pretty quickly. And I’m also fairly adventurous and love to try new restaurants, go out for sushi, explore ethnic cuisines… that’s not really his jam.

Mike doesn’t care for Asian food, either, on the whole. Since he’s Filipino, this sometimes gets him flack, but it’s just not his thing.  He likes enough of it, though. Lumpia/egg rolls, super-crispy won tons, teriyaki chicken, and chicken fried rice = yes. Everything else, from the Philippines to China and everywhere in between and likely surrounding = no.

Sometimes I feel bad for him. That sounds terribly condescending, but it’s because I care.  He’s a grown man, he can choose what he wants to eat, but some things are just so freaking good and the fact that he won’t try it or think he won’t like makes me a weep a little inside for all the deliciousness he’s missing. I want to enrich his life with dark chocolate and halibut! But not together, I’m not that adventurous.

He will occasionally give something a go if I harangue him enough about it or if it’s close enough to something he does like. And sometimes, he will concede that he likes something new. It’s not often, but I consider it a tiny victory. There’s a culinary end-zone dance going on in my head when this occurs.

What I find totally perplexing is the things he will eat, while excluding yummy goodness like roasted zucchini, grapes, strawberries or butternut squash.  Things like asparagus — now, I love asparagus, but as far as veggies go, it’s polarizing.  It’s not really a “starter vegetable”.  I’d say it’s more in the “advanced vegetables” category along with brussell sprouts and eggplant, so for that to be one of his favorites? I find that surprising.

Also, liverwurst. LIVER. WURST. It’s got “worst” right in the name, yet he likes it. Go figure.

Shrimp chips. He knows how I feel about these. I’ve grown accustomed to them over the years — in the beginning, the mere opening of the bag would send me gagging, but now I’ve learned to filter out the smell.  For those not familiar with Asian snack fare, shrimp chips are these cheese-puff like things, but instead of technicolor orange cheese flavoring on the outside, it’s a powdered shrimp flavoring. (I think Walkers makes something similar in England, but in potato chip form.)

Mmm… powdered shrimp. #heave (Yes, I just hashtagged. It’s compulsive.) Mike says it’s a throwback to his youth and despite not liking most Asian food, he loves shrimp chips.

So, as Kathy says, “But not a grape.”  He’ll eat liverwurst and asparagus and artificially flavored shrimp cheetos, but not a grape. Not a grape.

I endure these little quirks.  They’re not deal breakers. Besides, he puts up with my habit of never putting the toilet paper tube back on the holder. And finding my hair in places least expected. And my sneaky razor theft. And my inexplicable rage over too-short toenails.

So, when I consider those things and the fact that he kills the spiders and drags out the trash cans without bitching, I guess I can eat another slice of pizza.