Why it's best to eat and drink on your own (From Oxford Mail)

Why it's best to eat and drink on your own

8:11pm Sunday 28th June 2009 in

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Munch, munch, munch, slurp, slurp, glug, glug, glug... It’s important, don’t you think, how you eat. Because it can make or break a friendship or relationship.

For instance, in company, I worry that crumbs of whatever I’ve just eaten have somehow got wedged between my teeth. But I consider myself lucky.

There’s one individual I know who smacks his lips when he eats. Which means if it’s a chicken sandwich, watch out, because you’ll hear ‘smack, smack, smack’ right down to the end of his street.

However, while people who eat badly can prove the ultimate turn-off, people who eat well can always hit the right nerve, especially if their choice of food is, by itself, sexy.

Cliche-wise of course, that means blindfolding our loved ones with a spare tea-towel in front of an open fridge while hand-feeding them Tesco’s finest strawberries dipped in double cream.

Likewise, as comedian Peter Kay says: “You never know where to look when eating a banana.”

Toast is a bit hit-and-miss; in bed on a Sunday, perfect, any other day of the week, totally slippers-and-pipe.

Equally, witnessing someone tuck into a sausage – no matter how fine a cut of meat it is – is a definite no-no.

I only mention all of this because last week I was treated to lunch by someone who didn’t say a word.

It was bizarre, although at first, typically, I was happy to bore her.

Not long afterward however, I realised I’d run out of topics such as ‘me’ and the weather, and decided to play her at her own game. So I shut up and focused instead on my lasagne.

Except, she didn’t take the hint, the atmosphere became tense, and my throat dried up and constricted.

I couldn’t swallow a thing – so much so in fact I had to abandon the meal and concentrate on drinking my way through the ordeal.

Nothing however has ever topped the following true-life dining calamity; working in Swindon a few years back, a woman, a lawyer, was actually sick over me – it was in Pizza Express and was a business catch-up. Extraordinarily, she then continued as if absolutely nothing had happened (rather than having my shirt washed afterwards, I burned it...). And no, I never thanked her for lunch.

Having eaten last year with a man who ordered a rib-eye steak and then spent most of the meal tugging at it like a rubber band, I also made a New Year resolution (back in August).

Unable to avert my eyes from the horror of chunks of meat ‘twanging’ into his mouth, I swore that in future, when out in company, I’d only ever choose dishes that didn’t require chewing.

Thus, going to an Indian or Chinese restaurant is perfect – a king prawn korma slips down without any apparent effort. As do soups, risottos and pasta dishes.

But be warned, salads can be dangerous; a fleck of lettuce or olive stuck on a tooth can instantly humiliate. So yes, eating and drinking can be fun, and I completely endorse it – just be sure you’re on your own that’s all.