Title: "Veggie Explosion at Match.com" I met Celia on Match.com. Her profile said "Vegetarian and Proud," but I thought she meant she owned an eggplant farm or something. We agreed on a cute little Italian place off 5th Avenue. I, being a meat lover, ordered a pepperoni pizza. Her eyes popped out like Ryan Seacrest seeing the real world for the first time. “I thought you actually read my profile?” she asked, glaring at me as if I'd just proposed a hot dog eating contest. She motioned for the waiter and ordered a margherita pizza. When the pizzas arrived, my pepperoni was a bit too close to her cheese for comfort. It was like a tomato sauce demilitarized zone between our plates. “I don’t mind you eating meat, I just can’t stand the sight of it,” she said, with a look of utter disdain towards my pepperoni-topped circle of joy. As if on cue, a pepperoni slid off my pizza and onto hers. It was like watching a Street Fighter character complete a successful combo move. Celia shrieked and back-pedaled like she’d discovered a roach in her arugula. A waiter dashed over and scraped the offending meat off her plate with a horrified apology. The guy looked like he’d just performed emergency heart surgery on her pizza. Needless to say, the date didn’t go forward after