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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"I love eating alone, but I hate being caught. The reversal of esteem when going from gorging on burgers at a bus stop to being joined by a waiting passenger is second in magnitude only to that associated with orgasm. Culinary onanism is a great joy, as intense as the sexual kind, but attached with equal feelings of guilt and insecurity.<\/p>\n
If you go on holiday alone like me then you will be familiar with the troubles of eating. I once ordered fifty cheap ‘n’ dirty buffalo wings only to be caught stuffing them on the upper deck of a bus. I had to throw them away and pretend I was full. By the time I could try to relight our fire the relationship had grown cold and soggy.<\/p>\n
I have a deep respect and admiration for someone who can eat at a restaurant alone. How can they do it? It is my greatest ambition to one day master that trick. If you can do that then you are at peace. And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son! Consider this: Pizza Express; Friday; 8pm; a man with a beer and a pizza, who is accompanied by a look on his face as simple as a labrador’s, is smartly dressed. He has actually dressed up to go to Pizza Express alone. He has desert alone. He has coffee alone. He tips moderately! Imagine slipping into a little Chanel suit, putting on a mink fur, and spending an hour applying make up, to wank.<\/p>\n
Cheers,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I love eating alone, but I hate being caught. The reversal of esteem when going from gorging on burgers at a bus stop to being joined by a waiting passenger is second in magnitude only to that associated with orgasm. … Continue reading