The Perfect Life #40: Allergic to Love

The Perfect Life #40 by Dr. Perfect

 Allergic to Love

Hey, doc!

I am a millennial with an avocado allergy. Is natural selection going to use this social defect to end my bloodline?

Literally no asshole will brunch with me, sooooo I’ll probably never get married. It’s not fair.

Forever Alone


Dear Forever Alone,

Fear not. You’ll eventually find people who accept you for who you are. I don’t know if any of them are willing to have brunch with you, but have you considered taking out a classified ad? I’m not the biggest avocado fan either. I even consider it among the most overrated fruit next to oranges, though it’s often mistaken for a vegetable. It does, however, make an interesting spread.

Coincidentally, I was watching this documentary on Mexican exports and found their avocado segment quite fascinating. The episode was called “From Guac to Eternity.”

The avocado originated from Mexico and other Central American regions before making it to the trendy brunch diners, where it currently resides. The earliest Northern American settlers didn’t have much use for the pear-like oddity until realizing how well it went with possum loaf, a once popular frontier dish.

From there, it really caught with the introduction of nachos and Tex-Mex restaurants throughout the Southwest of the 1950s. Nowadays, avocados are as American as apple pie or pistachio peanut butter. Its fine paste can even be used to fill cracks in the wall!

Avocado allergies are somewhat common, so you’re not completely alone. There are others languishing in the shadows, equally shunned, without an ounce of purpose in their lives. Seek out those poor souls and enjoy a healthy avocado-free brunch free of judgement or derision. I’d join you, but I also write a column for Avocado Monthly and couldn’t put that lucrative gig in jeopardy.

It’s time to find the food you like, and don’t settle for anything else. Brunch doesn’t have to be all about the avocado, even if its inexplicable absence creates moments of awkward silence. Salsa makes an adequate substitute or perhaps a buttery egg salad bagel. I don’t know what I would add, since I don’t care what I eat while I drink bottomless mimosas.

For a memorable brunch, indulge in some golden omelets, a shot of brandy, and a fine, savory cigar for afterwards. Ignore the appalled looks of patrons as you fill the room with delicious second-hand smoke. It might just be your last brunch among the avocado class, but you’ll leave your mark before joining your brethren in solitary brunches at the kitchen table with your cat too embarrassed to glance in your direction.

Things will get better. Go to a coffee bar, and if you don’t like coffee, pretend. The modicum of acceptance will be more than enough to get your through the night, dreaming of a strange, green fruit you can never embrace.

Dr. Perfect has slung advice across the globe for the last two decades due to his dedication to the uplift of the human condition.

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