The Art of Having Brunch

As I’ve said on many (many many) occasions, I really (really really) like breakfast.

This morning I went out for brunch (which is a fancy way of saying I ate nice breakfast food past breakfast time but before midday). Hash browns, sourdough, poached eggs, spinach leaves; what’s not to love about breakfast? I honestly don’t know. (Well, mushrooms. But I avoid them or they could easily ruin my day.)

I was thinking about why I like it so much, and I have an answer besides “I like breakfast food more”.

And I think it’s because breakfast is more intimate than dinner.

Dinner is a usual date, right? It means that if the date sucks you can claim you have to get up early the next morning and run away from the date and never see them again.

Breakfast suggests “I’ll wake up early to hang out with you” and “let’s get the opportunity to keep the date going all day”. (Not that I went on a date this morning. I had breakfast with a friend.) Breakfast is something that married couples do (either that or community living, sigh). It’s in the same category as cleaning your teeth; it’s not for people who are just dating. It’s for people who live together or want to and are happy to see this ordinary routine in someone rather than just the glamorous excitement of dinner at a nice restaurant.

Breakfast is normal. Cleaning your teeth is normal. Putting on pyjamas as soon as you get home from a date is normal. Only people you’re close with get the privilege of seeing these ordinary things that we do. (Naturally there are exceptions to every rule, but am I going to talk about such exceptions? No.)

So there you have it. I like breakfast food and I like the connotations with breakfast. (Wait. Not in a dodgy way. Got it? Okay.)

Now I’m going to go and clean my teeth before bed, which all my community-living friends have the privilege of seeing.

Sarah xx



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