Whenever I eat an avocado at home, I wish I was married. It’s been pounded into my head that while the delicious fruit is good for you, chock full of “healthy fat,” it’s also has a high-caloric number. So what’s a frugal single girl to do when she wants avocado on her salad? She’s certainly not going to only use part of the food and throw the rest away. And she’s found no acceptable way to save half for later, as God cruelly dictated that this creation go brown within seconds of touching oxygen. Of course, I could get a roommate. But I swore those days were over years ago, after broken, un-replaced wine-glasses, floor-peeing cats, and jerky boyfriends who made your skin crawl and were always splayed on your couch. And it seems extreme to get a roommate just so I can enjoy avocados. But marrying for the fruit? That seems just about right.
Dawns on me that my two reasons for wanting to be married are both produce-based. Which makes me think I should diversify my matrimonial-desires. There has to be more to marriage than fruit and veggies.