Let’s get one thing out of the way: The first rule in dating a vegetarian is to NOT date a vegetarian. It’s just simply awful. It’s like when I decided to follow the Dalai Lama on Twitter. The first week was very inspirational, but by the third week, his endless droning on about peace and compassion made me want to throw rocks at children just to spite him. Also, he did not retweet my reality TV show pitch, wherein David Sedaris and the Muppets live in an apartment together, which makes me question whether he’s truly compassionate or just all talk.

Why would I ever go on a date with a vegetarian, when I’m not a vegetarian myself? Well, because guys will date anyone who’s pretty. If a woman is attractive enough, she can literally get away with anything: public tantrums, infidelity, lack of knowledge about anything of importance, stupid-looking dogs that no man would ever own voluntarily, vegetarianism, MURDER. It’s not news that if walruses had nice tits, guys would mainly date walruses. Only physical characteristics matter to us at first. It’s not until a woman poisons our breakfast cereal or smashes our windshield with a baseball bat that we realize maybe our penises shouldn’t be making major life decisions for us.

I’ve dated three vegetarians over the course of my life, and each experience has followed the same basic route. The first date with a vegetarian is very pleasant. She assures you that she’s “not one of THOSE vegetarians. You can eat whatever you want,” and so you pick a neutral food place that offers both vegetarian and meaty options. When you order chicken alfredo, she doesn’t comment on your choice.On the second date, when you order a hamburger, she will flinch slightly, as if a gnat just flew in her nose. She won’t say anything, but there will be an oddness in the air the entire evening that you’re both aware of, but neither of you want to discuss.

On the third date, you’ll order a french dip with au jus sauce and she’ll launch into a 40-minute rant about the animal that had its face pulled out through its anus by a death robot in order to produce your sandwich. In your mind, you’ll be saying, “Death robot? Oh man, that sounds so cool,” but outwardly you’ll be staring blankly at this deranged yet attractive woman, realizing she has pulled the world’s most obvious bait-and-switch on you.If you choose to go on a fourth date, you’ll need to either agree to become a vegetarian yourself, or treat it as a “hate date” vengeance opportunity in which you order prime rib and make caveman sounds as you eat it. No matter which option you choose, both of you will feel miserable and alone at the end of the evening.

Assuming her breasts are immaculate enough to cause you to convert to vegetarianism, please keep in mind that by doing so, you are essentially agreeing to two weeks of horrid, life-altering diarrhea. The human body doesn’t care for drastic changes in diet, and when you switch from your usual daily intake of lukewarm Hot Pockets and stale beef jerky to sandwiches with actual vegetables in them and meals made almost entirely out of weird cheeses, your body will display its disapproval so bluntly that it will ruin any chance of you being intimate with your new girlfriend for a considerable period of time.

Months later, when she dumps you for an authentic beatnik who looks like Anthony Kiedis with amusing facial hair, your bowels will go through the same torture when you switch back.You’ll also get fatter. Much fatter. You’d think being a vegetarian would make you healthier and therefore skinnier, but when you don’t have meat to fill you up and your food options are limited, you tend to turn to sugary things like potato chips, cupcakes, or just entire tubes of frosting. Also be warned that the changes your new girlfriend requires won’t just be culinary. You’ll be prodded to rely on weird hippie ways of giving yourself energy, like exercise and proper nutrition.

You’ll be encouraged to start actually recycling things instead of just chucking everything in the garbage and letting the hobos sort it out. You’ll be expected to spread vegetarianism to everyone you hold dear, like a missionary saving others from a terrible imaginary fate.And God help you if she’s vegan, because that’s when things get really weird. You’ll start using laundry detergent that doesn’t smell nice and deodorant that doesn’t work. You’ll start bringing old lady tote bags to the grocery store and paying money to hear Ed Begley Jr. speak.

You’ll humiliate yourself and everyone around you by asking waiters if their veggie burgers are cooked on the same grill as meat burgers. You’ll become the sort of douche who over the years always made you ponder, “How does one become SUCH a douche?”

Then one day, you’ll wake up and notice the smell of patchouli, and realize it’s you. In a moment of panic, you’ll dump your girlfriend, shave your ironic facial hair, replace your vegetarian food with things that don’t leave you hungry, and remove your preachy Twitter updates and start posting normal ones about how you’re worried that the success of “Game of Thrones” will cause it to only feature three pairs of tits per episode instead of 14. And then you’ll be free again. Sweet, sweet meaty freedom.