Are You Or Someone You Love, A Dinner Digger?

by Christie Grimm · March 29, 2016

    Some girls, in it for money. Some girls, in it for love. Some girls, well, some girls are in it for the food.

    If you yourself are not a shameless, serial meal ticket, Tinder Binger, or Grindr Glutton, you sure as hell know someone who is.

    Or worse, you've been the unsuspecting victim of their hungry hungry hustler ways.

    Bringing new meaning to a dine and dash situation, these modern day Gorgons pray on the sad, lonely, and sexually desperate - committing themselves night after night to the ridiculous grind of date after date, swiping right on every person, swiping right on every menu.

    Chances are things won't start off too badly. You'll be sitting there, striking up what seems like a fairly successful conversation of where are you from's and what do you do's. Maybe she's into you? Maybe this could go somewhere? Maybe, oh, wait, she just ordered 3 appetizers and a main. Nope. Not your night. Not your night at all.

    Try as you might, there is no Lady and the Tramp business to be had here. Share only if you dare. Dare lose a hand, that is, as your 'date' gorges herself on whatever her tiny little squirrel hands can pack on into those cheeks. Her parade of courses hasn't begun, yet already she's the portrait of an 18th century French peasant who's hit the lottery, baguette crumb plastered face and all. Unconsciously mumbled muffles here and there between cow chews, feigning consciousness towards whatever well meaning question you, her food benefactor, pointlessly pose. Not even Rihanna could find love in such a hopeless place.

    Is there a cure for this piggy curse? These culinary cruel intentions, giving no real chance to anyone aside the chef? Ordering your date under the table, and eating them out of house and home? Instinctively running to the restroom at the first sign of a check, pretending with an uninspired "oh, no.." to have forgotten your wallet, or, just sitting ever so entitledly, full on the power of femininity, and thus the gentleman duty to pay for this shit no matter how ridiculous the circumstances?

    Are all girls the worst, or just this particular dinner digger? Is this just what you get for the gender pay gap? Eh, who knows. Either way, you've been warned.