Date #19: A Fork in the Spoon (But Not a Spork)

I think it’s over for CASKWBPBACS. Not because things have changed but, rather, because they haven’t.

I had a very lucid moment whilst on my date with Granola and All Bran oh so long ago. Now finding myself with a second cereal suitor possessing even a shred of promise and, with it, the prospect of options, I couldn’t help but to acknowledge a somewhat pressing notion that I had, in fact, approached a proverbial fork in the Cereal Dating road. Now, I realize I’m getting ahead of myself here (hey, offers a better view than the alternative, badum-ching), but my mind kept wandering to two images: what my life would look like if I were to chose one of them over the other, if I were to “end up” (if you will) with CASKWBPBACS or, alternately, with Granola and All Bran.

A life with CASKWBPBACS, I imagine, would be one filled with movies and board games and evenings at home or friends' homes. Animated, exaggerated stories would accompany Sunday brunch with his family in the Valley, followed by aisle-wandering at World Market and Barnes & Noble. Quiet conversations over meat and potatoes (or matzah and gifilte fish, or lentils and butternut squash) would crescendo with an evening of falling asleep on the couch. We would exchange humorous literary passages, creative larks, travel tales, and the occasional passive-aggressive argument. I would gain, potentially, ten or fifteen pounds, but also a sharper, quicker wit and a better understanding of the allure of Star Wars.

Life with Granola and All Bran, on the other hand, would be markedly more kinetic. Passion and fire and sunshine and travel. Up early, even on Sundays. Creative breakfast combinations that include oatmeal and cacao nibs and flax seeds. Hiking and swimming and home-cooked vegan Thai food. Trips to Whole Foods and the Indian spice market and Costa Rica. Lots of talking – mostly his. Exhaustion. Possibly sunstroke. In this scenario I would take up rock climbing, sport a perennial tan with ever-changing cuts and bruises, and possibly get myself into some sticky situations involving rickshaw drivers and obscure Cambodian laws.

But those were just the quick, spur-of-the-moment images that popped into my head. Neither perfect (which leads me to believe my search may continue beyond this duo) or necessarily preferable, just starkly different, intriguing, and – strangely – a reality check of sorts. Is it possible that I could really change that much depending on the person I am with? Really? Stubborn, independent me? How is that so?

Such big questions for breakfast food. Such existential crises for cereal. So let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Let's get right where we are, which at #19 with CASKWBPBACS…

Our fourth (and, I believe, final) date included a mutually agreed-upon movie and quasi-meal (I ate corn on the cob in anticipation of running up the street for sushi as soon as we parted ways. He had pizza.) at the Farmers Market. It was all very nice, as usual, but let's face it - I just don’t see this taking a romantic turn and it wouldn’t be fair (to him, to you, to Cereal Dating, to those starving kids in Africa) to continue to refer to these encounters as “dates.” So barring any drunken rehearsal dinners in London (anyone catching the reference there?), unforeseen plot twists, or particularly blog-worthy occurrences, this shall be the last you’ll hear of CASKWBPBACS.

I’ll give you some time to say your goodbyes.