Frauenversteher: Good woman taste?
Dirk Brichzi tries to understand women
It's not that long ago our new columnist Dirk Brichzi "Frauenversteher" still used as a dirty word. With the age came the insight that sometimes it is quite useful to decipher the peculiarities of the female being. He does not always succeed - but he strives every time.
After the last column, a reader wrote that it does not matter to women what movies a guy has in the closet, but more important are other things. Do not panic: I do not hold women right in front of a stack of DVDsin order to gain sympathy, and vice versa, I do not judge women because of whether she drives a car as Diane Keaton or films by Wong Kar-Wai in the original can speak.
I am afraid, however, that I will not rely on intelligence, humor, charisma and a few optical aspects in my sympathy. Recently, a category has been added: food preferences. I attribute this back to my age in the classic way. I mean, I suddenly also like sheep's cheese and do not think balsamico is a remedy for cracked horse hooves or Jamie Oliver for center-forward Tottenham Hotspurs. But now this: When I sit opposite a woman eating, I do not look her in the eye or anywhere, but on her plate, It's almost obsessive.
Show me what you eat and then I'll judge you. Fast, subjective, no objection, no appeal.
On the next page: What are actually "rocket rhubarb comrades"?
I do not want to put the blame on the women in the shoes or on the plate, but when I look at the "rocket-rhubarb comrades" I have written, I say to myself: You did not want it otherwise! These are mostly do-gooders who want to improve the world a little bit and start with their own diet plan. There's nothing wrong with that, a dash of naivety and a few reveries have never hurt a woman.
But this nutritional Gutfrauentum has crept on almost all menus. Rucola is the receipt for the habit of putting everything on the plate, which is green and not covered with thick thorns. Even rabbits get this stuff down when they rinse off two liters of water afterwards. Many Gutwrauen chew this stuff in the dry state, wetted with at most a few drops of olive oil from the spray bottle.
The sneaky at Rucola: Meanwhile, there is hardly a dish without, so it is usually no longer mentioned on the map and the innocent eater (I) often suddenly gets a whole bunch of this rabbit feed vorgesetzt. I am still waiting for the first vanilla pudding, from which I must first fish out a few branches of arugula. Sometimes the covert name "Rauke" is also used, because the alarm bells do not flash when reading the menu.
While I still want to give the good woman a chance after the arugula disaster, she orders a rhubarb juice spritzer. Sure, Coke makes you fat, Coke light is out, beer does not fit, water is too boring and if you really want to be hip, just order rhubarb juice spritzer. Even if until a few years ago was not known that you can drink something like that. But that was the same with the Bionade. I'm still waiting for the flavor of arugula rhubarb. Such women can only slow down the free fall on my sympathy scale if they speak just as great English as Emma Thompson in "What's left of the day".
On the next page: "Cranberry-cucumber-women"
Which brings me to the next female food guy, the "cranberry and cucumber woman". As such, a good friend has lately littered me, whom I always call Harriott, because she wears such great jackets in English country-house style that she would look great in every Merchant Ivory movie. This type of woman does not want to improve the world right away when eating, but it does stand out from the crowd, if only unconsciously. For example, the masses almost always order the biggest at breakfast, because the woman decides at short notice whether she would rather eat a croissant with jam or a bread roll with cream cheese. The decision-making comes mostly after the order.
The lingonberry-cucumber woman then ordered a cowberry-cucumber sandwich for independence. No one else does. Luckily, I want to say. Is probably on the menu right under the rocket rhubarb cake. Now, as she swallowed the first bites of her extraordinary sandwich, she could see that perhaps she was not one hundred percent more sure of her choice.Two days later, she sent a text message, she would have had severe stomach upset and completely flat. And what does she do next time you visit this place? Order an exotic-sounding "Toastini". Who could not sympathize with such a woman because of her stubbornness?
But I only distribute the full score to other women. The "Yes, gladly, when to say, if you ask, if you want to come to the burger and chips. Order the Indian chicken curry. At the Italian pizza salami. Or the doner kebab, The pikiert forgive the face when they pick up a branch of arugula. And afterwards, wash everything down with cola.
