I am going to share two opinions — one non-controversial and one that I don’t think is controversial, but will probably be interpreted as controversial, because the internet is full of people who think they’re right when, in fact, they are wrong.
First off, I love eating breakfast. Second, I hate eating breakfast in bed. This is my matching pair of carefully considered opinions. Now, who wouldn’t agree with my first statement? Bacon is delicious. And, likewise, who wouldn’t agree with my second statement? Eating breakfast in bed isn’t romantic, or special, or delightfully self-indulgent. The only people who should eat breakfast in bed are those recovering in a hospital.
This essay is about eating in bed, which is something only an animal would do, or a person who acts like an animal. Or, even worse, a person who can transform into an animal, maybe because that person was cursed? I don’t know. But I do know this: only monsters eat in bed. It’s just gross.
If you stop for a moment and really think about it, I bet you’ll agree with both of my opinions. If you’ve recently eaten breakfast, or anything else, in bed, I invite you to consider your life choices and to swear to yourself, and your loved ones, and the gods you worship, that you will never, ever eat breakfast while snuggled up in a comforter still warm from your body heat.
Please understand that I am a bit of a historian, with a degree in Comparative Wikipedia Studies. And so it is with the force of authority that I say beds are for three things and three things only: sleep, sexual healing, and streaming cooking competitions on a laptop. A keen reader might notice one activity has gone unmentioned, and that is the inexplicably popular act of eating breakfast in bed.
It is disgusting. In fact, no one should eat anything in bed. The unique genius of the human species did not conceive of beds as crumb traps. They’re not giant sponges designed to soak up gravy. It boggles my mind that anyone would snack while supine or propped up by pillows. I suspect there are readers who have been brainwashed into thinking being served breakfast in bed is romantic. There is nothing romantic about eating oatmeal in the exact same place you’ve been drooling for 7-8 hours.
Imagine sleeping in a giant filthy napkin. Imagine. Imagine waking up with a forgotten leftover tomato slice stuck to your face. Imagine that. Eating in bed is the path to ruin.
Back to history! The bed was invented over 5,000 years ago and some things have not changed. For instance, beds are still just piles of leaves, grass, or straw with animal skins thrown over them. Except for Casper mattresses, which are made from breathable foam and other comfy materials.
(Now, you may be thinking I was forced to mention Casper and you would be wrong. I sit next to the Casper marketing department and it doesn’t hurt, from time to time, to mention Casper’s outrageously comfortable mattresses, okay?)
My point, though, is that beds aren’t tables and tables aren’t beds. This is an immutable fact. “But I eat breakfast off a tray!” you might say. You know who eats off trays? Little children and prisoners and little children prisoners. Who wants to eat off a tray? When I order room service at a hotel, which I often do because I am a very important internet content creator, my food comes on a tray because a tray is a functional way to transport my soup du jour of the day, mozzarella sticks, turkey club with a side of pickles, side salad, ice cream sundae, and diet coke from the kitchen to my room. However, I then remove all of the plates and glasses from the tray and put them on the table. I eat on a table! I am a human being. Not a monster.
This isn’t about beds, history, or the rules that keep civilization from collapsing. I mean, yes, this essay is about all of those things. But this is about something deeper, more primal, and that’s the issue of how anyone can sleep in bed sheets spotted with mustard? For #@$%!’s sake!
By all means, eat breakfast. It truly is the most important meal of the day. Feel free to eat it sitting at a formica kitchen table (the way our ancestors did) or on the go — the breakfast taco is a gift to humankind. I celebrate those of you who eat breakfast! But if you’re buttering your toast and sipping your morning joe while reclining in bed, then you’re guilty of a great crime, and that’s the crime of being gross.