On being a male vegetarian

I went to my sister-in-law’s going away party tonight. She’s leaving for the Army in the next couple of days and while I’m happy for her, I am concerned about some of the choices she is making. Those choices are neither here nor there, but the party setting is pertinent to this post.

Being a male vegetarian is weird. Not from my end, I enjoy eating vegetables, not eating meat. That’s the point right?

I’m at this party and there is no one manning the grill, hot dogs, brats and burgers. I know that the number of people coming is going to be many and without someone grilling now, a disaster is brewing.

The hostess walks up, hugs me and then asks me to man the grill, finishing up what she had started.

Dilemma: Does the vegetarian prepare the meat for the group or does the only guy there with grilling knowledge shirk his social duty?

I ended up grilling all 40 burgers, 36 hot dogs and 24 brats in record time, but ended up having next to nothing to eat during the party. Such is the odd life of being a male vegetarian.