I love food.
Wait, I don’t think I said that right. I love food. I love to eat. I delight in the crispness of perfectly steamed broccoli; sliced mangoes and sectioned clementines are both a soothe and a freshness to my tongue.
I derive pleasure from preparing and cooking a meal for myself and I get even more pleasure when given the opportunity to do that for someone else. There is satisfaction, comfort, and sensuality to be found in all things surrounding food.
I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love food. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t appreciate the acts and the rituals or who doesn’t understand the fundamental fact that food is one of the sublime pleasures of a life well lived and is something sacred to be shared.
I want someone who is ravenous, inside and out, ravenous about life, about eating it whole, about getting messy and getting dirty, about living, living, living all that they can.