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Crab Rangoons Are Better Than Any Man

Picture this: I'm sitting across from my date at a swanky new bar. He's the right age, successful, and attractive. He's nice. We've been at this restaurant for forty minutes and he's still talking about a transformative change of something something. It must be a really exciting topic to him as he's barely touched his drink. He compliments me on my appearance and my conversation. Odd, since I've been saying words without much concern as to their choice. I just don't have the concentration to engage because I keep thinking about delicious crab rangoons.

Some background may be in order. I was born and raised in LA as a gluten-free vegan. Perhaps it was this humble beginning that kept the truth of crab rangoons hidden from me, but I wasn't introduced to them until my seventh year at UCLA. My study team was cramming for our final in intersectional dietary violence awareness when unbearable hunger broke me. Lyanna noted that Crab Rangoons weren't gluten-free, but they did use imitation crab, so they should be vegan. I was so famished that I decided to break the vows I made to myself.

That night, I made new vows. Vows to Crab Rangoons. Vows stronger than any vow I'd give to any man. My date with Mister Perfect at that stupid 'swanky' bar that doesn't serve crab rangoons ended the same as all the others. The urge came over me and I mentally swiped left on his stupid face, freeing me to seek out my true self. My true crab rangoon eating self. He would never understand.

Now I am at home, wrapped in blankets to ward off the chilly 72 degree Los Angeles night, and finding my center in the creamy center of a crab rangoon. The fluffy yet crisp exterior is my new purpose in life.

I know my lifestyle may not be for everyone, but if you love yourself, dump your man and get yourself some crab rangoons. There is no room for both in your life. That's not just okay, it is divine.


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