Reflections on “BLT Week”

So, “BLT Week” has come to a close. Over the past week, I indulged in a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich each day. When I add it all up, that’s about a 16-ounce bag of bacon, nearly two sliced tomatoes, and an entire head of iceberg lettuce consumed in eight days. It’s what happens, you know, when you’re living solo.

There’s just something about seeing high-quality bacon on sale at the supermarket that compels you to snag it up. And, of course, you throw in tomatoes and lettuce, thinking you’ll figure out how to use them all.

People keep suggesting I should get a decent freezer, but honestly, I have no desire to turn my life into a freezer storage unit. I watched my dad, a baby boomer, spend too many years connected to his freezer. You know how it goes; you shove things in there, and then five years later? It’s like a guessing game, trying to remember what on earth you bought.

And eating that much bacon brings about a sense of urgency—you can’t let it go bad or, even worse, get lost in the far corner of the fridge. Trust me, that would be a disaster.

I get that bacon can be used in many ways, but I tend to keep it simple. I’m pretty loyal to the BLT. Sure, a couple of strips with breakfast make sense too, but after a week, I’m over it.

Pork Chop Dilemma

Last month, I embarked on “Pork Chop Week.” The situation was eerily similar to bacon week. I bought a pack of five pork chops when they were on sale. Again, I found myself in a race against time—one a day, or else they risked falling into the black hole of my refrigerator, only to be rediscovered months later.

This sort of thing has become the norm for me. Cooking for others isn’t my routine, and I can’t resist a good deal, so I often end up with family-sized portions. Then there’s this nagging responsibility to eat it all before it spoils.

There are single-serving meals available in supermarket delis, which seem to target folks who are perpetually stressed. You know the kind—one sad little pork chop, a heap of mashed potatoes, and three skinny green beans, all encased in microwaveable plastic, costing upwards of $20.

Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather grab that family pack of pork chops—a much better value at $5 for five.

For me, those five pork chops equate to a week’s worth of meals. After that, I really can’t bear the sight of another pork chop for a while.

Visiting a Friend

Then there’s my friend who lives alone in another state. She falls into the same trap, often buying too much perishable food. Unlike me, though, she chooses to ignore what’s in her fridge. The leftovers pile up, and she forgets them.

This is where I come in during my visits. I take a week to polish off what’s left in her fridge. Fish sticks she never touched? A half-eaten pad thai? Oh, and there’s always some stale cheesecake lying around.

Just recently, I discovered a slice of cold pizza lurking in the back of her refrigerator. Thankfully, my microwave skills came to the rescue, and I managed to transform that sad pizza slice into dinner.

The Single Tax

There’s a term floating around—”single tax.” It captures the notion of the extra costs incurred for being unattached or living alone. And these costs really hit hard when traveling. I find myself racking up quite the hotel bills or gas expenses for solo road trips. At times, it feels excessive.

But this seems to be the new reality. More people are choosing to live independently, whether it’s traveling, dining, or simply sharing an apartment.

According to recent research, about 38% of U.S. adults between the ages of 25 and 54 do not have a partner, a noticeable rise from 29% in 1990.

The Rise of Singles

So, what spurred this shift from couples to singles? Personally, my journey into single living began in my 20s. I had ambitions of being a writer—a profession that often complicates relationships.

It felt like a burden to support a family while pursuing something as unpredictable as writing. I didn’t want to drag them into that “starving artist” lifestyle.

But fast forward to today, and I think people simply enjoy being on their own. There isn’t that traditional “yin and yang” relationship dynamic anymore. Men and women are increasingly similar—both have careers, homes, cars, and unique food preferences.

As folks become less reliant on one another, the trend toward solitary living grows. Individuals are often quite capable of handling things on their own. And while that’s great for personal freedom, it leaves me pondering the long-term societal implications.

Honestly, how joyful could one be after stuffing themselves with six BLTs?

A Frozen Future?

Sure, there are those who nudge me toward getting a reliable freezer. But there’s something about that notion that doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve seen what glued my father to his freezer—and, frankly, I prefer not to live that way. You put food in, forget about it, and by the time you find it later, it’s just a mystery wrapped in frost.

For me, it’s about the now. I want to savor food when I can, enjoy the thrill of snagging a deal on great chicken apple sausage instead of looking five years into the future.

If that means chicken apple sausage is my daily fare for the rest of the year? Well, that’s a deal I’m willing to strike.

Hope for the Future

Yet, in the back of my mind, I hold onto the hope that things can change. That maybe, just maybe, men and women will bridge their differences and find ways to coexist more harmoniously again. (Is there a possibility that birth rates could follow suit?)

Because, until then, it’s just me and my surplus of chicken apple sausage hanging around.