|Vegan Dating: I Can't Kiss a Smoker|
|Tuesday, 30 October 2012 00:00 | Written by Tonya Kay | Blog Entry|
In every family there is a sort of 'family identity' consistent among its members. Usually this involves one characteristic that is vital to being a part of that family and how members secure their belonging. In some families that vital characteristic is the ability to carry on stimulating dinner conversation. In others, members must be able to hoop three-pointers or pitch three strikes. In still others, the uniting tie is the ability to argue, insult and get the upper hand. Whatever the characteristic, it's present—and it's how we know we are part of our family. In my upbringing, the mandated identity was open-mindedness.
It didn't matter to my mom and dad if their valedictorian daughter went to university or worked in a factory. It didn't matter if their son built engines or mended socks. It didn't matter if we kids were Christian or pagan; so long as we kept our minds open, the same would be returned to us.
I've been a vegan for a long time. But I've never let that alter my open-mindedness to meeting potential partners. After all, if I stopped being open-minded, I'd stop being a part of my family. This is deep, people—it’s about core identity! And if I stopped being open-minded, I'd grossly limit my choice of prospective lovers. So here I am, dating bacon broilers, cheese fiends and pasta puffs—you know, "normal" people. I'm so open-minded, I don't even ask my lovers what their diet is like (let alone their names); that's how open-minded I am!
But quite by accident, I fell in love with a coffee-drinking, cigarette-smoking junk-fooder. And love really is an amazing thing. Within six months, this person went high raw vegan, not because I said anything, open-mind you, but because he admired me, recognized the value of my raw vegan diet, tried it out for himself and… Mikey liked it!
Oh, the unexpected and unpremeditated joy of making love to a high raw vegan—there is no greater pleasure on this fleshy Earth! The bodies are slim, strong and clean. The smell is sweet, in-season and pheromone-forward. The fluids are watery and tasty. And who knew, the sensual/psychic communication is heightened. I know my personal senses have skyrocketed since going raw more than seven years ago. I am more sensitive and more sensual now. By definition, raw vegan lovemaking holds layers of intimacy that before were not accessible.
Which is also exactly why I may be ruined for life. With my senses now so expansively developed, I can smell the pizza someone ate two days ago emanating from their pores today and it's definitely not sexy. I can see in a person's complexion if they've been drinking soda pop and it's just not attractive. And even if you've gobbled your spearmints, I can taste the demon inferno lungs on the kiss of a smoker for a week afterwards. No matter how broad-minded I want to be, sick stomach and oily skin just aren't my cup of chamomile tea.
I guess it's natural selection. But I'm not happy about it. What's a raw vegan gal supposed to do in this world? Screen her potential mates according to diet? How superficial! How closed-minded! Settle for thick, stinky, dumbed-down sex with protein propaganda addicts? How empty! How gross! Or hope that every lover I am considering admires my lifestyle so that they drop the animal products, refined foods and eat a ton more fruits and veggies, too—hopefully before we meet? What is a conscious, open-minded sexual being supposed to do?!
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