Life > April 3, 2008

By Austin H. Jones | Staff columnist

In a recent conversation with one of my friends (yes, I have eight of them), he mentioned the apparently increasingly popular term “cereal dating.” Like any person out of the loop, I pretended as if I had heard of it and didn’t stop to ask what it meant.

But now, as I look back on the complete absurdity of the concept, I can’t help but doubt any cereal lover’s motivation for finally defining the relationship and moving to the next level.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m a lover of many different cereals, myself.

There’s just so much to consider: initial crispiness, shelf-life, personality, absorbance of milk, taste in music, bite-size-ness, net weight, beliefs, fiber content, wholesome, eye color, how well it mixes with others, artificial coloring and especially – does it have nuts?

The closest I get to dating cereal is walking past box upon box at the grocery store, and even then, it’s more like speed-dating than anything.

I could probably come up with multiple reasons not to date almost every major brand – ladies (and gentlemen, I guess, please don’t be offended if you have often seen yourself as resembling one of these cereals; it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t date you – I might even try you with milk sometime).

Corn Flakes: The blandest of the bland. Even if they were sweetened, maybe even frosted, they still wouldn’t be as GR-R-REAT as Frosted Flakes. Also, the rooster is a lame mascot compared to a ferocious tiger.

Mini-Wheats: Seriously? I mean, I want a dependable relationship with a lot of substance, not this flaky, short-lived crunchiness that tastes like cardboard.

Corn Pops: Speaking of cardboard … The thing is, they wouldn’t be half as bad if they weren’t so dadgum arrogant. Nobody’s “Gotta have Pops.”

Pebbles (Fruity and Cocoa): Wow! What a lame excuse for incorporating Flintstones characters into a breakfast staple! It’s almost as bad as the whole Push-Up Pop ordeal.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch: Shoot, girl, you know I don’t want to see all that – it just needs to get up out my grill.

Lucky Charms: Even if I had the reflexes and endurance of a ninja, I don’t think I could constantly fend off that extremely persistent leprechaun.

Cocoa Puffs: If that stupid bird followed us around on every date, I’d probably end up just leaving them for good and never once looking back.

Reese’s Puffs: Do you honestly think that indulging myself by eating candy every meal is healthy? It’s just not practical if you ask me.

Life: This is just your generic, semi-sweet, semi-crunchy, run-o-the-mill cereal that doesn’t really deserve any special attention. I just don’t get why Mikey likes it.

Anything and Everything Quaker Oats: That guy just creeps me out.

Cap’n Crunch: If “crunch-a-tize me, cap’n,” is some sort of masochistic role-play you can count me out.

Apple Jacks: They be frontin – ain’t no way you gonna get me to believe those things taste like apple.

Rice Krispies: These things are unrelentingly noisy. I can never seem to get a word in edgewise, let alone get around to asking them out.

Kix: As fun as they seem on the outside, once you get to their core, they’re just another puffed-up grain, no matter how kid-tested and mother-approved their fans say they are.

Trix: These gals are too young, silly; they’re for kids.

Cookie Crisp: The closest I would ever come to dating cereal is with these delightful bits of sugary death.

Yet, they still lack something dually protonic and neutronic.

Even when there are benefits to dating some types of cereal, there are definitely more sacrifices I would have to make on my part.

I’m just not willing to make those sacrifices.

I don’t care what you say; cereal dating just can’t be as good as everyone is making it out to be.

So I’m going to sit out this trend and stick to random hook-ups with granola and yogurt for now.