Because, first of all, I’m not. I borrow the term because it’s an easy way to explain away not trying any of the sausage your brother made, but I’m not a proper vegetarian. I eat fish, but I hate the term Pescatarian, so how about we just put “vegetarian” in quotes and roll our eyes when i say it.

Because that’s not the point. If somebody has suddenly and out of the seeming blue decided to limit their diet in some way, they’re probably dying to talk about it. That lady in line at the DMV who gave up gluten would love to fill you in on the details of her bowel function, just as soon as she’s done swishing coconut oil between her teeth like a goddam crazy person. By all means, engage her in a conversation about the healing properties of gross.

I’ve been a “vegetarian” for so long I don’t even remember what meat tastes like (though I’m pretty sure it doesn’t taste like the “Chik’n” i just picked up at the co-op). In that time I’ve learned that nobody really wants to know why I’m a “vegetarian,” they want to ARGUE about why I’m a “vegetarian.” And heaven help me once I admit I like seafood. My “shrimp are the bugs of the sea” reasoning isn’t exactly swaying hearts and minds. But I don’t care. I like sushi and, very occasionally, I can afford to eat it – I don’t need to fight about that.

Because let me tell you, when you’ve been having the same argument for over twenty years, it starts to lose its luster. And, frankly, it’s depressing – talking about why I’m a “vegetarian.” It depresses ME. Every time I’m forced to talk about being a “vegetarian,” I feel like a jerk for not being a 4th level vegan composting in my own pockets.

I don’t want to be a vegan. I don’t want to forget what real cheese tastes like. I swear to God if you drive me to veganism I will NEVER forgive you.

So let’s call a truce, omnivores. Understand that I’m not calling you an asshole by ordering my salad without bacon. (Though, honestly, not everything needs bacon. Pigs are not a seasoning, people.) I’m not trying to legislate away your right to eat the usual animal parts. I don’t have a pamphlet in my back pocket about the horrors of whatever is currently horrifying. I just want to eat my rabbit food in peace and talk about something light, like abortion.

If you really must fight about farming or argue about the feels of animals, by all means, call PETA. The nice folks over there would be happy to bash you over the head with literature and truthiness. I’d prefer to sit here and judge your eating habits in silence. Just like everyone else.