Once upon a time, when I use to be human. My human father told me tales of other humans. These tales often took place at the dinner table and one always stuck out in my mind because I didn't believe it could be true. I was taught from an early age that you never ever lick your knife. To me this made sense, because the knife goes into butter which is a shared thing and there is the potential to cut your tongue.

My human father tells me about a friend of his that would routinely lick his knife. I never believed it. It must be a fish story. No one actually does that. Now, he always tells tales and takes liberties, so I assumed this would be one of those cases.

Many decades in the future, I finally went out for dinner with that former colleague/boy that I kinda have a crush on. As we were talking, he licks his knife. I looked around wondering if I am actually seeing this, and there he was licking his knife. Long tongue licking the back and front, wrapping around blade getting what ever substance off the knife. Making out with the cold dull metal. ....

....

....

Well, nothing is gonna happen between us.*

Wow Dad, some of the stuff that comes out of your mouth is actually right.

*edited to add: It was less the knife licking, and more the "There's no chemistry in our conversation. It's fine conversation, but I'm not totally engaged and you seem like you are kinda lost and don't need a relationship but time to find yourself." (The knife licking was the humourous part.)