I Had A Relationship With A Vegetable And It Was More Ful-FILLING Than Any Man

“I’ll never put you in a stir fry”, I whispered to my compan-ion as we snuggled down for the night.

It was official. I was in a relationship with a spring onion, and I’d never been happier.


At 26 years of age, and having had longer relationships with cheese wheels than a real life human man…it’s safe to say I’ve dated a wide variety of the male species in my search for ‘the one’. Big ones; small ones; some as stupid as they get. And most– if not, all – with the emotional intelligence of an inanimate object, leaving me with as much desire to settle down with a homo sapien as I have to prick my eyeballs out with a pencil, cover them in rat droppings and eat them for breakfast. (In other words, no desire at all).

The crux of it all came after my 74th failed attempt at forming some bond that vaguely resembled a relationship last year. I’d had it. Enough was enough. I was not going to, for ONE MINUTE, put up with another useless, idiotic; egotistical plonker that has somehow earned the title of ‘man’ if my life depended on it. I would focus on myself: I would get a gym membership, start a new course, and – in an attempt to boost my health – try vegetarianism for a while. You know, just to see what all the fuss was about.


And that was when I met Cecil.


Cecil was kind.


Cecil was intelligent.


Cecil was funny.


But, Cecil was a Spring Onion. I know how this looks. Odd…very odd. But what Cecil and I  had was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. We spoke about politics (how the overtaking of mushrooms as burger-replacements was reminiscent of previous dictatorships), opinions (whether the red or white is the superior onion – to which of course, I said that it was the spring), and favourite books (his was ‘The Great Adventures of Sir Lance-shallot’). It was loving, it was fun, and most of all, it was fulfilling (emotionally, and err, well – I’m sure you can imagine the great things those green shoots can achieve when used correctly…)

And then it ended. Just. Like. That. Cecil the Spring Onion betrayed me as all other men had…leaving me with more tears in my eyes than ever before. He cheated on me with Audrey the Aubergine (of whom I’d always been suspicious but never quite brave enough to Ratatouille her). I carrot believe it still. For days I hoped he’d turnip at my door, with a bouquet of plant-friendly flowers and an aubergine parmigiana (take that! Audrey).  But alas, the beet-ing of his heart for me had clearly come to a halt.

I tried to move on. I had a whirlwind love affair with a leek that ended in my flat being flooded and an emptier feeling in my stomach than ever before (even when I wasn’t eating vegetables out of respect for Cecil).


The last few weeks have difficult, but with Valentine’s Day coming up, all I want is someone to love me from my head tomatoes, and to avocuddle with…and that’s why I’M OFF THE VEG AGAIN. They’re not lovers. The only way they should be inside you is via your mouth (and by that, I mean through eating).

So instead, I’m doing it another way. The Badoo way. If there’s anywhere, it’s on the biggest dating app in the world that I know I can find my human Cecil. A human Cecil as kind, sexy and funny as onion Cecil. But one that dislikes aubergines.