By the end of his life, super vegan Milo was eating an average of 6 lbs of plastic a day. graphic by Emma Palmer

My BF was a super vegan: a eulogy

“You died to save us from our sins, but I needed to save you instead.”

This past weekend, I had to say goodbye to a dear friend of mine. Specifically, my recently deceased boyfriend. To honor his memory, I have decided to write this article.

Firstly, Milo was a good man. He always put others before himself, and sometimes before me. But that was okay, because I knew deep down he loved me more than vegan cashew satay dressing on his salads.

We met at a friend’s party – I can still remember it all clear as day. He was talking about how he managed to save 50 cents on a McChicken by foregoing the chicken. I thought it was kind of counterproductive to the vegan movement by ordering any sort of meat-based meals at all. Evidently, it still feeds into the consumption rates of a product even if you took away the meat, but he very easily debunked my faulty viewpoint with, “Yes … but no.”

We started dating a week later, and to be quite honest, it felt like we never left the honeymoon phase. Yes, we did pay for our own separate meals, him making sure he ordered the most exotic item on the menu and then negotiating with the cashier on how much he could save by not getting the meat, but that was just a lil charm to our life. It was extra okay because most of the time when we ate together, he cooked. We would eat raw cabbage with cashew satay dressing, which actually isn’t a favorite of mine, but it was romantic and Milo was so hot it didn’t even matter.

During that time I failed to notice the warning signs. With every meal he became more dissatisfied, sometimes even cancelling the order when the cashiers refused to accommodate his sound logic. When I asked why he didn’t simply order something from the vegan menu, he scoffed. “I know I’m vegan, but I’m definitely not one of those vegans. Also, do you see the prices on those things?”

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Milo graduated and became a freelance graphic designer and with that, came his small, small paycheck. Gone were his days with free housing and tuition and in its place came MLM and pyramid schemes. As he delved deeper into his job, he became more and more fervent about Veganism, and how we were all doomed to die because we ate meat. He would stare me down when I brought my own lunch, especially when it was a meat wrap or hamburger or such.

Once, Milo appeared faint when I popped by his apartment for a quick visit. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head upon my entry. I initially thought the drool around his mouth was induced by hunger, but it turned out that he was simply so angry about the dead cows in my meal that he went into a self-induced seizure. I never brought meat into his presence ever again, but the damage seemed to have been done.

He stopped eating vegetables too, at that point. I begged him to stop going down this path of no return but he refused ⁠— He had seen the light (and something about saving greens). He was our savior and He knew that what he did, only He could do and He had to do it for humanity.

Milo began eating plastic with our meals. “Two turtles saved with one meal,” He would comment dryly, as the microwave dinged and He took out the melted, clear meal. I initially tried some but quickly discovered it was not to my tastes. He ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Milo began to deteriorate. Once His skin became moist to the touch and His eyes became hollow, I had to ask for a break. I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t watch Him do this Himself, and I really wanted to stop eating cabbage salad with cashew satay dressing.

In the end, He was the one who gave me a break.

An eternal one.

Milo, if you loved me at all, please don’t hate me. I didn’t know and now I realize I was so blind. You died to save us from our sins, but I needed to save you instead. I know your dying wish was to be composted, but the doctors said Your body was 65 percent plastic and we couldn’t do that to the environment. You, my love, were unrecyclable.

I love you. Goodbye, Milo.

Post Author: Courtney Spivey