Posted on: Monday, October 25, 2004

ABOUT MEN

By Peter Boylan
Advertiser Staff Writer

My last About Men column cost me a $127.63 dinner at Hoku's on a Friday night.

When you insult your girlfriend's cooking in print, that's what happens. You pay.

She had the duck and I had several servings of humble pie.

The chunk of my paycheck aside, it was a lesson needed, and learned.

Men — and I can't emphasize this enough — do not insult your girlfriend's cooking. In fact, take it a step further, do not insult any food set in front of you by any female. It isn't worth what follows.

First, every female your girlfriend knows will sign up to form a coalition willing to burn you at the stake. In coordinated strikes, they'll bend your girlfriend's ear and bombard her with recommendations — often referencing you by a new name, such as "the ungrateful burden."

I don't know the exact number of times people urged her to beat me with a cookbook, but it was suggested too often.

One harrowing encounter I had with a girlfriend sympathizer happened at work.

My colleague, Suzanne Roig, was sitting right behind me when she began to pepper me with questions about what I ate for lunch and how I prepared it. This continued for several seconds, until I decided to kick the cat out of the bag and defend my position.

Suzanne, without the hint of a smile, sent me on an all-expenses-paid guilt trip.

"Wow, she must really love you to even try something like that," she said.

Since writing that stupid column, every woman I know has told me the exact same thing — though none with the simple, deadly delivery Roig used.

Secondly, no matter how hard the family members laugh at the insult, ultimately, they think you're a twerp. Do not let the smiles and kidding fool you. That brief bit of cleverness at your lady's expense did not go unnoticed by those who share her blood.

Finally — and here's the kicker — if I end up with this woman, she is never going to cook for me. This is not good. By poking fun at her culinary skills I have essentially devoted a good piece of my future earnings to some combination of cookbooks, take-out orders, and Costco rotisserie chickens. I laughed myself right into cooking class.

When guys tailgate or watch sports, most of the food is bought. Our cooking requires little more than a grill, salt, and pepper. A burnt brat or overdone steak warrants little more than, "Dude you're miserable" and a relief cook. No one gets bent out of shape, and the pulled cook is relegated to drink-fetching duties.

Those are the rules.

That said, please allow me to offer the following:

I am sorry for insulting my girlfriend's food. She went out of her way to do something nice for me and I undercut her effort by making light of it.

But understand, making fun of those you love is a pastime in my family. My dad and I think it's funny.

My sister, mom, and girlfriend — not so much.

Reach Peter Boylan at pboylan@honoluluadvertiser.com.