It's almost been a year now since I stopped blogging. Shortly after my last entry, I was dumped by Mr. Vanilla, and I didn't want to blog about it. I didn't want to blog about it because I was tired of blogging about my boyfriends. The last thing I wanted my(cyber)self to become was a woman defined by her relationships with men. After I had recovered from the heartbreak, nothing very exciting was happening in my life; I was still working at the bookstore, still singing in the choir, still living in the co-op... and then I fell in love again, and I didn't want to blog about it. I've been sharing my sandwich pretty seriously now for the last few months, and I'm feeling like it's time to resurrect the blog, not because I want to talk about sharing my sandwich, but because in addition to the sandwich that I'm sharing, I sometimes still need a sandwich all my own.
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Monday, 18 January 2010
Sharing my sandwich
A few weeks ago I ordered a sandwich at a cafe. When the woman behind the counter asked me if I wanted mustard on it, I said yes. Then I thought to myself: “But I don't like mustard. Why did I just say yes?” And then I realised... the mustard was for him. Somewhere deep inside I already knew that the sandwich wasn't just for me. I was going to share my sandwich... with my boyfriend. And yes, I call him my boyfriend, in the completely heteronormative, committed, and monogamous sense of the word.
He didn't understand the symbolic importance of the gesture, and seemed confused as to why I was making such a big deal about the mustard. But you, cherished blog readers, I think you will get it.
I shared an actual sandwich with my boyfriend.
And the best part? I even enjoyed it.
Looking back on who I was and what I wanted only a few months ago, this is quite a departure. It's as if I had been campaigning for years for the right to a diversity of ice cream flavours, and just as I finally convince my local ice cream shop to offer 50 different varieties, I go in and order vanilla. Now there's nothing wrong with vanilla, I like it very much, and it may in fact be exactly the flavour I want right now. But I feel like a bit of a fraud. When I was craving tiger tail, and rocky road, and bubblegum, I hated it when people would tell me that one day I would realise that what every girl really wants deep down is vanilla. How dare they tell me what I really want! And it kills me to admit now that they were right; That after sampling all those exotic flavours of ice cream, nothing has ever made me as happy as vanilla.
He didn't understand the symbolic importance of the gesture, and seemed confused as to why I was making such a big deal about the mustard. But you, cherished blog readers, I think you will get it.
I shared an actual sandwich with my boyfriend.
And the best part? I even enjoyed it.
Looking back on who I was and what I wanted only a few months ago, this is quite a departure. It's as if I had been campaigning for years for the right to a diversity of ice cream flavours, and just as I finally convince my local ice cream shop to offer 50 different varieties, I go in and order vanilla. Now there's nothing wrong with vanilla, I like it very much, and it may in fact be exactly the flavour I want right now. But I feel like a bit of a fraud. When I was craving tiger tail, and rocky road, and bubblegum, I hated it when people would tell me that one day I would realise that what every girl really wants deep down is vanilla. How dare they tell me what I really want! And it kills me to admit now that they were right; That after sampling all those exotic flavours of ice cream, nothing has ever made me as happy as vanilla.
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