Male/Female Food Hatred

Big Surprise—men aren’t charmed by the delicate shape and size of cupcakes, not to mention their pretty colors and designs. 

Lane Cummingsby Lane Cummings

I was reading an article this morning about foods men hate. This is a concept I’m familiar with as I have a friend who doesn’t like to order the veggie patty sandwich at Subway because he doesn’t like to say the word “patty”—he finds the word emasculating. Instead he’ll mumble, “I’ll have the veggie sandwich” and they’ll reply, “Oh the veggie delight?” and he mumbles, “No, the other one.”


Allow me to sum up this article so you don’t have to read it: men don’t like to eat food that they find too dainty. This includes items like cupcakes, macaroons and sliders—the latter men consider to be a bastardization of the good ole, American two-handed-burger.

Before I, the lone female of the Crave Comedy section, tell you men to either get over yourselves or see shrinks—I thought it would be nice to give you a laundry list of foods that women often do not like to eat. So you can tell me and all my chick friends to do the same.

“Hey babe, it’s five cent wing night; you want to come?”

Gross. I don’t know any women who are interested in buying a bucket of wings in various flavors with various dipping sauces so she can rips off the meat with her teeth while holding it in her hands—most of which is not even chicken by the way—it’s chicken skin and fat.  It makes me feel like I should be barefoot and sitting outside a cave with a big wooden club in my hand that I made myself.

“I know this great rib joint not too far from here…”

Again we have the same theme. Holding meat, attached to bone in our hands and tearing the said meat off the bone with our teeth is not a woman’s cup of tea. Yes—for most men it reminds them of the cavemen from whence they came and nothing makes them happier. I feel like I’m in some post-apocolyptic movie and I’ve just killed some impala and I’m roasting their guts on a fire I’ve built myself and that I should be happy to have this rib meat as it’s the first food I’ve have in days and it insures my survival just a bit longer as I wait to bump into Will Smith or Denzel Washington so we can go off and fight the crazies and zombies that abound this world—and all in all it gives me a feeling of anxiety. Your great rib joint. Save it for guys night out, huh?

“Do you want a hot dog? It’s bacon wrapped.”

Men, it seems to appear that when you wrap bacon around something, you seem to think you’ve made a food suitable for a race of super men. Look, when I hear the word hot dog I think “phallic shaped meat made from albatross, possum and gopher.” When I hear the words “bacon wrapped hot dog” I think “Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web, slaughtered and fried and wrapped around phallic shaped meat made from albatross, possum and gopher.”

Don’t even get me started on the oversized turkey legs at ren fairs and carnivals. No, I don’t want a bite. But if you can find Wilma Flintstone, she might be interested.