Reuben’s Haiku

A guy named Reuben messaged me on OKcupid a couple weeks ago.  His message was not creepy, it was very friendly, and it was interesting enough to warrant a response, even though he lives in Lancaster and I am not remotely interested in driving from Baltimore to Lancaster to hang out with someone I met via okcupid even if my profile does say I am interested in ‘activity partners’ to do activities with.

Also I could never date a guy named after my favorite sandwich.

I don’t even like sandwiches, so kissing a guy named Reuben when I would prefer to be eating corned beef with sauerkraut and thousand island dressing (I don’t even like dressing) is a really big deal. He would have had more of a chance if his name was BLT.  Like if his name was Brendan Littlefoot Tomato, and all his friends called him BLT.  I would have kissed him and not even thought about bacon.

Reubens are important.  Reubens are god’s gift to his little world full of sinners, like, here, you were born a sinner, you’ve all sinned multiple times since birth and will burn in hell for eternity unless you accept me as your lord and savior, but while you’re deciding, enjoy this perfectly assembled sandwich that is warm and piled high with thinly sliced meat, regardless of what your current religious faith is, even if you are an atheist or Buddhist and never plan on joining me in my kingdom, you can taste this sandwich and take part in its edible pleasure. God is great, all the time, all the time, god is great.

Reuben’s Haiku

i would go by Ben
if i was named Reuben cuz
i’m not a sandwich

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