We met in an Allergies Anon chatroom, the latest online dating site for Dykes that Don’t. It was love at first latte (a soy low fat, of course). I loved the way her glasses steamed up over the mug, and she loved the way my jugs stood up inside my top!
We agreed to cohabit at mine, what with it being above the organic foodstore. She was living a few doors up from a kebab shop, the smell of hot grease played havoc with her sinuses.
She kept her place on for a bit, a last ditch grasp at feigned independence. But after 3 months, she put it on the market, where it was snapped up almost immediately by a well known coffee chain. She made a killing. So, that was it, we were stuck together like 2 peas in a pod, and that’s when it all started.
Despite meeting on Dykes That Don’t, I hadn’t quite appreciated how much ‘don’t’ there was going to be in our relationship.
“Don’t put your goat’s cheese by my tofu burger … Shine your shoes outside, the animal products …” and so on.
To be fair, I have my idiosyncrasies, but I’m sure that soya marg, asthma inhalers and veggie sausages can’t be that intrusive?
And then came the day when it really did get all too much.
“And what exactly is this doing here?” she pointed in disgust at the dish I’d prepared as a surprise for our nine month anniversary.
How was I supposed to know they’d braised the tofu steak in pine nuts? She went blue in the lips, became short of breath, went white as a sheet and then crumpled to her knees. She gasped and gestured towards the medic alert box on the side.
Momentarily shocked out of my usual diatribe when faced with a conflict, I handed her the case. She proceeded to unwrap and inject herself with the adrenalin pen. She didn’t need an ambulance. Not that time.
So, I’m sitting here in a café with my soy decaf sugar-free low-fat low-GI cappuccino, and she’s over half an hour late, with no sign of an explanatory or apologetic text.
I guess she must have found the nice bowl of pecan muesli I left her out for breakfast.
Annabel Pribelszki, Brighton