Thursday, 3 February 2011
Why Men Are Like Artichokes
Artichokes make me think of summer. Steamed whole, then the leaves ripped out of the globe, dipped into a little bowl of melted butter. While you're sitting outside, a late evening, shadows lengthening, bottle of wine, friends. Can't get better than that, can it?
But the reason artichokes are so perfect isn't only because they are, in and of themselves, delicious. It's because I've only ever eaten them in situations like that. And it's the same with men. The men may be lovely, but it's more to do with the situation in which you have them, that particular time in your life that they're entering. They come around at just the right time, when it's perfect for you to meet them, when you're doing new things together, when you're surrounded by the right people and are in the right sort of place to be with them. And when that period of your life ends, the men go too. But it doesn't matter, 'cos there's always next summer. There will always be artichokes.
Another thing about artichokes. They're only seasonal in summer (or at least, they're only good in summer - you can probably get them imported). Men are seasonal too (unfortunately I think it's illegal to import hot Italians to Britain). Guys come into your life in waves, in peaks and troughs. Oddly enough, for me at least, guys take on the same seasonal properties as artichokes in that they often coincide with summer. Which suits me just fine. Nothing spells the freedom of summer like lots of sex.
And, when all is said and done, the only thing better than having a man around in the hot, sunny, leisure-filled days of summer is having an artichoke for dinner.