Man Vs Food

"God I'm wet now."

It's an agreeable line to hear of an evening coming from the mouth of your beloved wife. If however, at the time she says it, you're sweating your balls out on a bike, and her eyes are glued to the TV screen, it loses some of its invitational nature.

"What?" I said. d squirmed a little, crossed her legs.
"Did I say that, or did I think that?" she asked.
"Ohhhhhh that you said dear," I assured her, my pedalling dribbling away to nothing.
"Ah," she said. "Erm...that's a little embarrassing."

I wasn't sure 'embarrassing' was exactly the word I'd have used. She was watching an American guy, fairly chubby and cherubic himself, by the name of Adam Richman, on the TV. Adam, bless his little heart, is the "Man" of a TV show called "Man Vs Food". He travels round America, eating. That's basically his job - he takes on the most wonderful, vacuous, tasty-looking 'food challenges' in restaurants, diners and the like. At the moment, he was tucking in to a chunk of dino-burger that oozed its gorgeous liquor over our imaginations in high definition, 40-odd inch glory.

"Err....really?" I said.
"Yyyyeah," she said. "You know it's not Adam, right?"
"I wouldn't presume to dictate what floats your boat dear," I said, becoming ultra-English when faced with conversation of an erotic or visceral nature.
"Yyyyeah. Erm...it's the meat, honey."

"The meat? The meat makes you...erm...?"

"Wellll..."

You see, the really tragic thing is I know she's telling the truth. Regular readers will remember my similar reaction in Dover when faced with a gorgeous piece of cake. The thing about Man Vs Food is that it's a tour through American food experiences, from which d, bless her, has been exiled for seven long years by her decision to come here and marry me. So just as not having cake for a year and a half reached into the deeper regions of my subconscious and confused my endorphins, to give me cake-hard-on, so seven years of isolation in a country relatively devoid of meaty imagination reached into my girl and made her meat-wet.

So who wins? Well clearly, in terms of love, she came to this culinary imagination-wilderness, so for love, Man wins. But for lust?? Most decisively, a victory for Food.

d crossed her legs again.

"Don't suppose there's a carrot cake around here I could borrow is there?" I asked?
She shook her head.
I carried on pedalling.