My ex-boyfriend (whose face, thank God, grows more and more dim with every passing day) claimed to be "allergic" or was seriously opposed to the following:
ALL fruits and ALL vegetables. All . No salads. No juices. No side of broccoli. No haricots verts. No ragouts. No roasted vegetable pasta. No fresh summer tomato with salt. Nothing . He said that fruits and vegetables made his throat swell up.
He ate no chocolate. He ate NO cheese, not even processed cheese food slices or Colby or string cheese, much less any "weird" cheese I might have had lying around. Wine. Caramel. Yogurt. Hard liquor, which was too bad, because he drove me to drink. Condiments other than ketchup, and that only with French fries, and those only McDonald's-type cut: no crinkle-cut or shoestring potatoes for him, he claimed the texture became too "mealy." This excluded hash browns or American fries or baked potatoes or mashers from his diet as well. A piece of potato that had been fried had also better not have any skin left on it--potato skin was a no-no. Bread in most incarnations--he'd order a hamburger, and eat only the meat. He'd eat brown-cardboard toast at breakfast joints with horrid fake jelly, but turn his nose up at my mother's sublime homemade bread.
He would Not Eat Butter--he wouldn't even buy butter for me to eat at his house. No pickles. No onion. All meat except plain grilled chicken breasts and hamburger patty was "gross" to him. He would not eat a piece of chicken that had been flavored in ANY way--even with lemon juice (no lemon! makes my throat swell up!) or olive oil (no! it has olives in it!) He would not eat roast chicken. He would not even eat ground beef, i.e., on nachos. He would not eat bacon, he would not eat roast beef, he would not eat sausage. He would not eat Thanksgiving turkey, or its stuffing. He would not eat Easter ham. The mere idea of getting him to try fish or seafood, or goose/duck/lamb/organ meats, or a freaking-ass pork chop, or even a piece of dark-meat chicken, was laughable. He'd never had a piece of steak--ANY steak--in his life. Barbecue sauce was out. Teriyaki? No way. No soy sauce. Fish sauce never crossed his mind once. Garlic--that's a laugh too, to think of him eating anything that garlic had even been near. Ever. Pasta: he would eat my homemade macaroni and cheese and my mother's lasagna, but that's all. No spaghetti. No ravioli. No noodle that was shaped unlike an elbow or a piece of toiletpaper.
He would not eat bagels. Cream cheese? Hah! Eggs were off-limits for him (another "allergy"). I used to thoroughly disgust him (through his mouthful of brown-cardboard toast) at breakfast joints by mopping up my runny egg yolk with my American fries. Salt and pepper, even, were "strange." Chutneys or jams or salsas were out. He wouldn't even eat junk food--oh wait, Doritos. He liked those. And Cheetos. He didn't drink coffee or tea or pop.
He DID eat: takeout Chinese from one particular place--but only Sweet/Sour chicken--no egg rolls, nothing that was "hidden." Plain. White. Rice. Tofu (??) The aforementioned Doritos and Cheetos. Grilled chicken breast. He used to come over to my house to grill enough chicken and make enough rice to last him an entire week, and mix it with taco sauce (NOT salsa). At. Every. Meal. He drank water, Corona (NO other beer) or Gatorade. The green kind.
He makes me, needless to say, want to puke.
Nothing will seem embarrassing or annoying after him. No one. Nothing.
EDIT: to say FritzBrenner, remember him?
I would have whacked him with a frying pan long ago. I wonder how he came to be such a picky person.