One of my fun quirks is that I love dividing the world into two kinds of people. Here are some of the ways in which I divide the global population:
- People who don’t eat nuts at bars because they know that nut bowls are the most unsanitary place to put your hand, and people who do eat nuts at bars despite knowing that nut bowls are the most unsanitary place to put your hand.
- People who call movies “films” and people who call movies “movies.” (If you read that sentence carefully, you’ll find out where I stand!)
- People who call D Coke “Diet Coke” and people who call D Coke “D Coke.” (Again, my views are clear).
- Lil Kim fans vs. Nicki Minaj fans
- People who think they always choose the longest line at the supermarket, and people who have more legitimate ways of understanding their lives.
(and finally / most importantly)
6. People who love mayo and people who don’t love mayo.
Now, some background on number six, which I consider to be the most important mechanism by which we can understand the goodness of people. There are few things I love more than mayo. Actually, now that I think of it, the things I love more than straight mayo are actually mayo-related (dipping sauces, my curvaceous build, salads where you can’t really taste the leaf part).
I also love people who really own loving mayo. No, it doesn’t count when people say, “I mean, I’m not disgusted by mayo. I’ll eat it if it’s mixed in with something, and I can’t really notice it.” I know this is harsh, but I put these kids on the same level as people who are disturbed by the taste/texture/existence of mayo. How could you taste mayo and not want to stand on top of a mountain and scream “I love mayo!!!” for all to hear? I have done this, and it feels right.
One of my closest friends loathes mayo. She doesn’t like to be near it, even. Which is a testament to her character, because she has to be twice as cool for me to call her one of my closest friends. It’s like how on American Idol the black contestants have to be twice as talented to not get voted off.
I had a boyfriend who hated mayonnaise, and I’m not saying that’s why we broke up, but I am saying this says something larger about his character.
Because mayo really is the best of all the flavors: eggs, oil, salt, pepper. And the textures: smooth, creamy, luscious. So naturally, I’m weirded out by people who DESPISE mayonnaise. And I’m equally weirded out by the less militant mayonnaise skeptics, who need to be tricked somehow, perhaps by an untraditional preparation or the word “aioli,” before they ingest it.
Today I got a text from a guy who I haven’t seen in about a month. He texted me: “It’s May time. It’s Mayo time.”
I’m not super confident. I don’t love myself the way yogurt commercials want me to. But I am so in love with the fact that when this guy thinks of mayonnaise, he thinks of me. At least I’m doing something right.
I want to always be the person people think of when they think of mayonnaise, in the instances (however few) that mayonnaise makes people think of a person.
NOTE: As I mentioned earlier in the text, I don’t hate people who hate mayo. If you hate mayo and we’re friends, feel flattered and honored that you have double the cool qualities. You must be pretty special to make up for your strange and, honestly, disturbing aversion to God’s nectar.