Dinner may be romantic, but it’s not the most intimate meal of the day. Breakfast is.
Your morning breath stinks, there’s crust in your eyes, and you’re sitting at the table wondering why you’re still not in bed. Add a morning erection to the mix and you’re at your most human — pulling your pants up to waist height and holding your cereal bowl to strategic positions can’t change that, and it doesn’t fool the more perceptive folks.
The breakfast question is similar to the airport question: “you’re stuck at the airport for 12 hours. Who would you want to be stuck with?” And don’t forget: who would want to be stuck with you?
Both questions expose who you’re comfortable seeing at their most vulnerable (tired, stressed, etc), and who is comfortable seeing you at yours. But unlike the airport question, the breakfast question asks that you consider this during everyday moments — not just once during grand events, like when you have the good fortune to travel.
Dinner is too late; you already have your guard up after the baggage from the day, and dinner can often come with unsaid expectations. But with breakfast, there is already the sense of familiarity and comfort implied. The expectation to perform is less.
Fancy four egg omelets can be nice, but so can plain old oatmeal. It’s not so much the food that matters, but the time spent together.
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Maja would be the one gathering the neighbors for breakfast time during our exchange year. She’d make her bread rolls, while the rest of the folks would bring coffee, pancakes, or fruit to make smoothies. Maja would also be the one giving friendly knocks on the door when we were slow to get up (usually Brian and I).
I’m no longer on exchange, but I’d like to follow her footsteps and continue that tradition when the next school year starts. I can’t think of a better way to start the day than to eat with good company.