The (not) rocket man and rocket girl

I don't eat rocket, I said with conviction. There was no screwed-up face, wrinkled nose or furrowed brow; Just the simple statement. It's not weird you know, or maybe it is. I don't know or really care too much...It just doesn't happen. Me and rocket aren't friends.

The woman I was speaking to, rocket girl, smiled her very pretty smile which touched her eyes and lit them up as she said, fine, more for me! She didn't seemed phased, but I caught the wriggle of her nose as she said it...I thought it odd, but put it out of mind - Captivated by those eyes.

What, you thought the smile was for me? You thought those eyes shine for me? Nope, it was all about rocket. I hate you even more for that rocket you peppery, tangy, weedy nitrate and polyphenol loaded green leafy bastard! I hate you. Damned bloody rocket.

But then

You're looking at todays lunch in that image below. My lunch. It's a chicken and quinoa salad with almonds, cranberries and rocket! What parallel universe or other dimension have I entered? Was I abducted by aliens, probed and then taken to rocketopia?

Quinoa, chicken, slivered almonds, cranberries and rocket (arugula) salad dressed with lemon juice, olive oil and salt and an iced cafe-late.

Rocket is sometimes called arugula which sounds a little like Dracula so carries with it a degree of cool-factor. Yeah, I'd be a vampire if I could...I'd make a good one too! Anyway, the arugula/Dracula connection is tenuous at best so I'll just move on. Besides, if I was a vampire I'd not be eating arugula, that's for certain; It'd be about biting necks and drinking blood of course...Why am I still talking about vampires? Move on G-dog!

I felt like something different for lunch today and the owner of the café I frequent suggested this salad. I think she was trying to get rid of them because who wants rocket right? I relented and it got placed on my table along with my iced cafe-latte and the owner said, enjoy G-dog. Yeah not likely girlie, not likely at all ya nutbag.

But then

I squeezed on some lemon because apparently it was going to add some taste-awesomeness to the dish, and hopefully hide the taste of the rocket, and then I dug the fork in, resigned to my rockety-fate.

I started chewing and...Hmm, tastes pretty good came to mind. I know, it went against my anti-rocket instinct but I'm just being honest. It wasn't half-bad. OK, sure it was probably due to the other ingredients and not the rocket itself, but let's just say that the rocket didn't ruin the dish as I had expected it to. Mind blown.

I took another bite, then another and then before I knew it...Yeah that's right, I finished my lunch, rocket and all. I sat there dumbfounded trying to figure what it meant and how I might process the mind-blowing fact I'd consumed rocket. Only brief minutes earlier rocket was anathema to me and now...Clean bowl, no heinous rocket left to languish un-eaten, unloved and wilting in the bowl rejected.

Nothing seemed ok anymore; The world seemed irrevocably changed; It was like I had shifted just slightly, and had landed in some alternate time and place, a place where I liked rocket? What madness was this. How do I return to my own space and time?

The aftermath...A bowl.

But then

I contemplated my situation, my ate rocket and didn't hate it conundrum; I became lost in the search for understanding, for meaning, but could find none. Temporary insanity? Mid-life crisis? Was I finally turning into a vampire? OK, I would have liked that were it true, and besides, I wouldn't be eating rocket if I was. I mulled it over, even grabbed another coffee to inspire the brain to greater levels of thought. Smoke began to emerge from my ears as the hamster ran faster in my noggin turning the cogs and gears.

Then it came to me...I realised what had changed...It was that girl! Rocket girl and her damned smile, those damned beautiful eyes and that wiggle of her nose! I'd been hexed by her!

She'd cast a some sort of rockety-spell on me causing me to like rocket. I mean, that smile and those eyes...They did sort of speak to me in ways words could never. But could they compel me in this way? Is it possible? I could only conclude that it is indeed possible. I ate rocket after all. I'd been spell-bound!

It was a relief to come to that understanding, I'll be honest. I can't imagine a world in which I actually like rocket, on anything. It just seems far too unlikely. Although I wonder if the spell will compel me to do anything else...Will I start liking synchronised swimming? Will I sell my guns and take up knitting? Will I finally get my out-of-control eyebrows waxed? Anything is on the table I guess...I mean, if she can get me to eat rocket what other devious and mind-boggling things might I be forced into?

I think I'm safe though, for the moment at least. I took stock of myself. Still like guns, check. Don't like synchronised swimming, check. My manly and rustic eyebrows still in tact, check. It's all good...I've managed to survive and until next time will continue hating rocket. I'll be ever-vigilant though, one never knows when one may become spell-bound.