The Man I Love With All My Heart Trevor

I have fallen head over heels in love with an extreme fighter named Trevor. Trevor smells of testosterone and gym mats.
His beautiful face but not his ginormous shoulders are hidden behind the menu as he reads ever so slowly.
"Swiss steak with choice of potato and vegetable. What kind of animal do you think they make Swiss steak out of?"
"Beef."
I want to explain how they make it, but know his attention span would be strained if I went into the carb detail involved with this dish.
I tell him to order the New York strip to be as safe as someone in his profession can be.
He loves me for more than my nutrition knowledge I tell myself.
"Do you want my potatoes?", Trevor inquires ever so thoughtfully. "Do I have to get the potatoes if it says so on the menu?"
I tell him no, he can do what ever he wants. But I leave off the "to me " part.
Trevor talks of his fighting techniques as we wait for our protein laden food. He uses strange Oriental terminology in his husky voice and it is my turn to look blank and nod vaguely. I squeal when he puts his invisible opponent in a head hold acting out a particularly good match..
"So how bout it, he finally asks once we have leaned back like full snakes, you wanna come watch me fight? My uncle and I have a competition next Thursday, wanna go?"
I ask my iron man how old is his uncle.
"24."
I cry and cry because I did not order dessert and show this baby what real risk is.