
To me, aside from the obvious question of taste, the prospect of embracing sushi was similar to embracing golf: sure, it would have its advantages, but deep down it was a little too sissy-boy to accept wholeheartedly. I can't take any sport seriously if it doesn't allow for heckling (sorry, tennis), and I can't take food seriously when it comes out of the "smaller portion/higher price" category.
Identifying myself as a sushi guy could threaten my entire Machismo Equilibrium. We all have various aspects of our personality that demand counterbalance. Here are a few of mine, for example:

-Passion for red meat
-Beard-Growing Capacity
-Bench Press Max. over 200lbs.
-Unable to Weep
Sissy Boy qualities:
-Fondness for Barry Manilow
-Copy of "Serendipity" in DVD collection
-Correct grammatical usage of "Your" and "You're"
-Writes a Blog

But as of last night, I cannot make that argument. In an effort to offset my concern, I attempted to convert Breto and Ben by offering them a sample of my roll. They acquiesced to my gesture, but remained unconverted, and I also learned that it's not a good idea to try to cut a piece of sushi in half with a chopstick.
Next time you see me, better not pat me in the lower back area. There's a good chance a gun may go off.