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Hosting Saturday Night Live had gone well. So well that, when we all went out for food afterwards, I ended up seated next to one of Shakira's backup dancers who was convinced I was the funniest person ever. On Isabella's other side was a certain regular cast member she was actively ignoring.
Yeah, I'd be riding that high for a long time.
And the night was only getting better. Isabella was able to make the occasional joke, we both agreed we look good in skintight clothes, she wanted to see my Irish Setter again sometime...and then the food showed up. She had ordered the veggie lasagna; I'd gone with pork chops. Her disdainful look was deafening. I like to think I know how to pick my battles, then I look at a beautiful woman who seems to like me and say "Is something wrong?"
I'm very smart, I promise.
"That's a living thing. Or it was. I'd think you, of all people, would understand."
I had options. I could have talked about the fact that I've been both predator and prey, the balance Tobias had found. I could have talked about the number of sapient beings I'd killed, both innocent victims and enemy soldiers, and the fuzzy line between those two that makes caring about the life of a pig difficult. I could have changed the subject.
But while I hadn't learned to pick my battles, I had learned to win them. And making her laugh was key to seeing her again. "Nah, pigs are jerks."
"What!"
"Pigs are awful. Trust me, I've been one, they'd eat you as readily as you eat that zucchini."
She was, at least, confused, and the rest of the table was paying attention. "But that doesn't make it right to eat them."
"Look, pigs are basically as smart as and have the same morality as oil company CEOs." Several people giggled, and God help me, I was starting to make sense to myself. "If I don't mourn one, I won't mourn the other. Chickens are just as vicious, but not as smart. Think of them as politicians. I won't eat beef," I was lying, and I'd be sad at giving that up if I decided to keep at this, but I'd find a replacement, "since cows are pretty cool dudes, but there's plenty of animals out there who deserve to be eaten."
"What about politicians?" one of the cast members across the table called out.
"Look, I'm not admitting anything, but if the California Senate elections get any tighter, I may host a barbecue and you're all invited."
Isabella burst out laughing next to me. "That might just get me to try, um, chicken again."
It wasn't a total victory, since I didn't get her number afterward, but we had a fun meal, my reviews were great, and 6 months later in South America, I took a break from shooting to visit a local restaurant. It turns out fire ant based sauces are pretty good, and hatred can make them divine.