The Two-Pickle Problem

Deli Sandwiches, The Little Prince, and the Cost of Wanting More

Have you heard the pickle theory? In a relationship, there should be one who loves pickles and one who hates pickles. That way, the pickle lover always gets two pickles.

I, however, could not imagine loving a man who does not love pickles. Because, my god, I love pickles. I would rather have one pickle and a shared experience with my love than two pickles by myself.

"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." –Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Most opportunities to double your pickle come with a cost. Be it a lost connection or 75 cents. Two pickles are never free.

As much as I love pickles, I don’t seek out pickles. I don’t buy pickles in my weekly grocery shop. I am not like Snooki, eating them drunk straight from the jar. Not anymore, at least. I had my moments.

I used to consume pickles so often that in college my roommate and I invented the Bacickle. Pickles we had dried out (please do not ask me how) and soaked in Bacardi for 12 hours. They were foul, but we ate them. We brought them to the bar to hand out to fellow pickle lovers, of which there were many.

A victim.

I enjoy pickles as they come.

This weekend marks the first of summer. I am lucky to spend my summers working in a small lake town. A few times a week, I practice one of the great joys of summer. I bring a deli sandwich to the water. I get a little stoned, I go for a swim, I read a book, I devour my sandwich. I save my pickle for last. Because they only give you one pickle.

This is what I was put on this planet to do.

I know I could ask for a second pickle. It would cost as much as a dollar. I am not financially concerned about the second pickle. I am existentially concerned.

For longer than I have been alive, a pickle has been given with a deli sandwich. Not two pickles. I could argue that, duh, delis can’t just be giving out pickles willy-nilly! Of course, they are stingy with their pickles! But it doesn’t feel stingy. It feels like human tradition. It feels right.

Hoping and praying John Burgess of Quora knows what he’s talking about.

I love that I don’t have to ask for a pickle. I know any deli or diner worth their beans is going to give me, along with my sandwich, chips (fries if I’m lucky), and one crisp, juicy pickle spear. Once I’ve ordered my sandwich, the rest is in god’s hands. Having to ask for two pickles… seeing that charge on what should be a single-lined bill… Feels in opposition to the true spirit of the pickle.

Is it the finite quality of the pickle that makes it so special? I have resented this idea since I was a little kid—that I would love something less if I had it more.

“I wish it was Christmas every day!”

“Aw, little Gbaby, but then Christmas wouldn’t be special!”

But I cry at every sunset. I gasp every time I see the full moon. I take pictures of the same mountainscape I see every day. My dog yawning always makes me smile. The things I love do not become less special the more I get of them.

So, why can’t I ask for two pickles?

The sun, the moon, the mountains, and my dog are immovable forces. Functioning on their plane, which I am lucky enough to witness in small but beautiful moments. I cry at every sunset, because there isn’t a sunset every night. I can’t force my dog to yawn, so it’s delightful when I catch it. These moments are always special because they are not mine. I am merely a witness.

But I am not a witness to a deli pickle! I am an active participant. The pickle is mine. Two pickles could be mine, too!

If I had two pickles…I would nibble on one throughout my sandwich, and save the second to enjoy in its entirety last. I am horrified to think of a moment that could come, when I am eating that second pickle, and I think to myself, I’ve had enough pickle.

Because when there is only one pickle, there could never be enough pickle! Always leave them wanting more, right?

Maybe the question isn’t really about pickles, but about how we live with wanting. Life is full of chances to ask for more, but sometimes, meaning comes from accepting what’s given and choosing to savor it. One good thing, well loved, can be enough.

I like the idea of a universe where one perfect pickle arrives, unasked for, tucked lovingly beside my sandwich like a little green prayer.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important." –Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince