I tend to think all of us are connected by a sort of fundamental shared humanity, and that that conflict arises from misunderstanding and that underneath it all we're more similar than we are different. This is how I generally feel until confronted with some thought or behavior to which I cannot relate at all — something so disturbing, transgressive or aberrant I'm forced to contend with the notion that perhaps we're all really truly alone.

My fiance, for example — someone with whom I generally feel a kinship —recently told me he's vexed by having to eat. Figuring out what to eat and then doing so feels like a chore. He wishes he could just take a pill in the morning containing all his day's nutrients and be done with it. I would rather just kill myself, which is how I feel when I'm dieting, which is pretty much all the time.

Who is this stranger, this animal, whose relationship with food is so different than mine? His is akin to the most casual of dating. Mine is more of the hot and heavy sort. Passionately on again and then off again.

He also sometimes "forgets to eat" and is reminded by the growling of his stomach. I've literally never forgotten to eat. Sometimes I forget not to eat. For example I recently enacted a "no chips, no nuts" rule as my workplace seems to be filled with bowls of each and a few minutes of mindless grazing can torpedo a day's worth of restraint. Plus, I've had a realization — an epiphany of sorts — that I don't really love nuts. I'm OK with them — cashews in particular — but there are other things I'd rather waste calories on. I feel the same about avocados and mayonnaise. They just aren't worth it, and if you disagree you can write a letter.

Anyway, I made this "no chips, no nuts" rule for myself and announced it loudly, which is what I do. Later, my fiance and I were looking at wedding venues and took a break to regroup at the bar of a hotel. He ordered a something, and I ordered a diet coke served in a '50s-style bottle with a 2013-style price. They were both delivered on tiny overly thick napkins along with a silver tray of nuts and olives. "Oh, no! I'm eating nuts!" I exclaimed through a mouthful of nuts. I'd completely forgotten about my rule.

On the plus side, at least it was mostly macadamia nuts that passed my lips. While I've painted all nuts with the "too caloric, not worth it" brush, I will admit macadamia nuts and the aforementioned cashews are almost worth it. Peanuts are never worth it.

The good thing about marrying someone whose relationship with food is so estranged is that our children might have a fighting chance. For their sake, I hope they inherit his ability to purchase or receive tempting items, bring them into the house and completely forget they exist. I am not this way. At all times, I know exactly where to find all the delicious items in the house. Some people have a good sense of direction; I have a good sense of carbohydrates. I feel them. And like anyone with an ability bordering on psychic, sometimes my gift is distracting.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm receiving messages from some pretzels trapped in the cupboard.

Hear more from Alison Rosen on her podcast, "Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend" or on the immensely popular "Adam Carolla Show" podcast. Follow her on Twitter @alisonrosen or visit her website at www.alisonrosen.com. To find out more about Alison Rosen and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.