Steak-up

Forget ice cream.

Another lovely side-effect of being on the dating scene is managing the ongoing roller-coaster of failed dating relationships.

For whatever reason in the past year, I have established a new tradition of marking the end of each relationship with a steak.  After a slight sting this past summer, I sent a note out to my besties with the subject line “I got dumped – let’s have steak!”.  I found it rather comforting to drown my sorrows in filet mignon, red wine, and board games with friends.

This time around, it was actually my friend Jenny who last week suggested she had a hankering for a barbecue, and would I mind hosting?  I sent out the invite and my friends quickly responded with concern… “we’re not celebrating another break-up are we?”… “no, no” i replied, “things are fine, we’re just in the mood for steak. ”  Unfortunately, soon after, I had to send out a retract: “uhhhhh correction – this looks like it is indeed a steak-up”.

Now I find myself pondering some ridiculous philosophical questions such as whether planning to eat steak was somehow clairvoyant… or perhaps whether my plans set in motion a kind of karmic cause-and-effect within the universe.  I also wonder whether there is some kind of unconscious symbolism in my break-up food of choice (insert joke here about replacing-one-piece-of-meat-with-another).  I suppose it’s better than if I chose sausage.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who reached out with their concern – I’m sincerely fine – although I’m sorry to say I’m not too eager to rush back online!

P.P.S. Earlier this week someone sent me (and I submitted) an application to appear on a dating reality show (no, not the Bachelor, those odds are too depressing).  Stay tuned.

P.P.P.S. At least we still have Greg!