Are You a Drizzler or a Pooler?
This is about so much more than ketchup and fries
It would never occur to me to drizzle ketchup on my fries.
What a nightmare — one fry drenched, the other bare, your fingers red and sticky. Instead, I make a polite pool to the side, like a sane person. Like a person who values consistency and control. My ketchup intake is measured per fry, per dip — a pop of color on a crispy tater. It’s the sensible way to experience a condiment.
Then I met the love of my life: a drizzler.
Without a thought, he zigzags ketchup across his fries. And because I rarely order fries, preferring to eat from my dining partner’s plate, this affects me. I either have to get my own and give up the illusion that I’m a side-salad person or reach into that soupy mess. You might think cohabitation is a big deal, but I assure you that chastising another person for how they choose to consume food is a whole other relationship level to unlock.
At house parties, at bars, I started surveying the crowd for drizzlers. Who among us eats this way? The sweet, shy drizzlers raise a hand. The poolers, always in majority, swoop in for ridicule and belittlement. You’ve never met a meaner crowd than poolers presented with a drizzler. That’s the fun of it: something simple we can attack each other…
