So, we already know one reason why the Farmer and I would never survive a domestic arrangement, no matter how many romantic notions one of us might have. Here’s another one: possible, unconfirmed vegetarianism. Observe:
Him: What are you cooking?
Me: Oh, you’re home already? Don’t you have a few more fields to plow?
Him: Is that…bacon?
Him: It sure smells like bacon.
Me: It’s not bacon. It’s, um, a new sustainable bacon substitute.
Me: Yeah, it’s made from the dried husks of…
Him: …Of what?
(He’s a farmer, Tammy. Choose your words carefully.)
Me: …Okay, fine, it’s bacon.
(As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not good in the moment.)
Him: I thought we talked about this. How eating low on the food chain is a better use of resources in an overpopulated world.
Me: Lalalalalalalalala…did you say something?
Him: (sigh) I’m still waiting for you to sign the papers. They’re right over there, same as before.
Me: I’ll sign them if you have this piece of bacon…
Him: (leaves the room)
Me: (yelling after him) Pay no attention to the ham substitutes hanging over the stairs…
And we lived happily ever after. The end.