Whatever you do, don't order a salad on a first date. I fear that women feel pressured to peck, nibble, and suckle on leafy greens, because they think they're being judged. Trust me, dudes can see the mozzarella stick lust in your eyes when you order that bowl of mulched vegetable matter.
Believe me when I tell you that we actually appreciate a woman who brings her appetite with her on a first date. If anything, it immediately puts a dude at ease. Here's a chick who can chill, and enjoy a deep-fried, battered onion. She's in control, and is choosing to have fun.
A guy will pick this up and respond in kind. Trust that there's plenty of opportunity down the road to judge each other's table manners, diet, and waistline. Ignore the salad when you first meet. First dates are supposed to be fun. Have fun. Count Weight Watchers points later.
Hey, eating healthy is an admirable trait. I try to do it as often as I can. In my man fridge you can usually find a small forest of condiments (including multiple bottles of hot sauce), beer, and hummus. I have proven my point. And no, I have never stumbled home drunk and eaten said hummus with my fingers. Yes, I have.
But I do like to eat right. This doesn't mean I don't marry my ass to the couch and inhale pizza or go gangster on an all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffet from time to time. When I'm alone, I try and eat light.
Growing up, I was a chubbopotamus. I had, what you might say, a severe case of the fatties. I've done just about every crash diet, and I've learned over time, how to scale back my portions from "wheelbarrow" to "plate." Everything in moderation, goes the old saying. And that's true. But in order to balance the universe, every sensible, low-carb meal must be countered at some point with something nacho cheesy.
There is nothing sexier than watching a woman smash her face into a gigantic, greasy cheeseburger. Dates should be about laughing, and eating, and getting a little tipsy and laughing more. (Then, making out.) A woman with an appetite is sensual. There is a direct correlation between food and sex. Both are genetic directives, and both are physical pleasures. So when I'm on a date with a chick and we're giggling, and she tears into a meal with passion and gusto, what I'm seeing is a person who knows how to let herself indulge.
But on the few times I've been out and the woman orders a salad, or just an appetizer, I see a person fraught with insecurity. This isn't a deal breaker by any means. But it's disappointing. It feels like her minds not there with you, that she's too focused on a diet or her health to be in the moment. I'll wonder how she'll be in bed if she can't even let go a little on a date. Will she be reluctant to surrender to her desires, and go on a naked booty rampage with me?
I respect discipline, and discipline can rule the rest of the day -- but not on a date. And I'm not advocating overeating; double-fisting turkey legs is it's own kind- of turn-off. But if we're at a fancy restaurant or a barbecue joint -- just don't order the salad. Embrace butter. Celebrate carbs. Don't be afraid to lick your fingers. Have a good time.
If the dude is weirded out by your healthy appetite, ditch him. A guy who can't find beauty in a woman attacking a plate of French fries is a probs, a controlling, humorless troll who cannot unclench.
Save the salad for lunch. Scarf brown rice and salmon post-workout. Reach for the sorbet instead of the quadruple-chocolate apocalypse when watching your various shows.
But when you're out with a dude, order what you want. Let's be honest: nobody "wants" a salad. Go for the fried chicken. We'll love you more.