You're a big pickle.

I'm pretty aggressive. Not just in a physical, rub me down with oil and let's start wrestling kind of way, but also in my mannerisms, attitude, and general personality. I'm almost always assertive, bold, and extremely outgoing. Some men love it. Some men wish they'd never met me.

Gerkin was always afraid of me. I think, deep down, he wanted to see if he was man enough to handle me. He would always make comments about how tough I was, how he was afraid I'd kick him, or that he was scared of me. I thought it was cute; how meek and vulnerable that Gerkin was.

When Gerkin looked at me, he saw Xena Warrior Princess of Doom. When I looked at Gerkin, I saw a baby bird, waiting for it's mother to spit chewed up worms into his mouth. But I guess what they say is true - opposites attract.

When Gerkin and I hung out, it usually involved food. I tried to get him to do other things. I'd ask if he wanted to bowl, maybe shoot some pool, even pretend we know how to play darts ... he just wanted to take me to dinner. I think he was afraid I'd beat him at anything other than eating.

One day, Gerkin decided he would pick me up from work on my lunch break. He had brought sandwiches. We drove to a little park off the shores to enjoy the cute little lunch my Gerkin had made. With our sandwiches, Gerkin packed us a pickle each. The kind of pickles you buy at a baseball game, on the Eastside, on a hot day. The kind, so big, that the pickle itself becomes a meal.


Words of Advice: Don't image search for "Giant Pickle" ... just trust me. It's scary.

I take one of the two giant pickles and if my memory serves me right, I may have said something about my pickle being bigger than his. I'm not sure what he heard, or how he could have misinterpreted what I said, but Gerkin looked at me really confused. Then looked at his crotch. Then looked at my pickle. Then he spoke. "No, my pickle is definitely bigger."

Now, when looking at the two actual green pickles, that we were to eat, mine was bigger. When he said that his personal, hopefully not green, man-pickle was bigger, I was scared. I mean, who says that at lunch?!?! I'm trying to eat my sandwich, thank you.

I try not to laugh, throw up, or make any kind of facial expression that would let Gerkin know that he was weird. I continue to eat my sandwich because a.) I was starving b.) he made a pretty awesome sandwich and c.) the last thing I wanted to talk about while eating a real pickle, was his man-pickle.

We finished our lunch and I noticed that Gerkin never ate his pickle. Weird.

We get into his car and he reaches into the back seat, grabs the left over pickle, and says "You may think your pickle is bigger, but mine definitely wins." He then, grabbed his man-pickle, to compare to the green pickle, he was supposed to eat for lunch. AWKWARD.

I glanced only because it was the polite thing to do. I mean, if I didn't look, what if he pickle slapped me? I was scared. I just wanted to get away from Gerkin and his pickles. Clearly, this was a pissing contest. Just because I made one tiny comment, he felt the need to overcompensate, prove his manliness, and compare himself to a vegetable. After feeding me one.

I tell Gerkin he's right. His man pickle wins. Mine was a stupid pickle. My pickle was a mini dill pickle in comparison. Mine would be tossed out of the assembly line because it's a defected, too small, unwanted pickle. My pickle was so small, that I never had a pickle to begin with. He smiled, put both pickles away, and drove me back to work.

I have yet to eat a giant pickle since.

Lesson Learned:

If a man needs to prove to you that he's a man, he's not a man. He's just a pickle.