Relationships are out. Brunch is in. Everyone knows it. But what about those brave soldiers trapped somewhere in the in-between, balancing the orgasmic elation of overpriced breakfast foods, with the heavy burden of commitment, co-dependence and having regular sex with the same person? Don’t stress, queen. The Brunch Theory is here to tell you whether your relationship is destined for marriage, mutual resentment, or an awkward walk home down George Street.
The Olive Theory had its moment. Originating from How I Met Your Mother, the concept suggests compatibility when one lover loves olives and one lover hates them. Then abracadabra – you're married with three kids and some genetically modified handbag dog. In other words, opposites attract. But olives are expensive, tiny, and a bitch to find at Pak’nSave. You know what’s arguably more expensive, slightly less tiny, and more relevant to the average Dunedin student battling a hangover at 11am? Brunch! The work of the gods. The death of your weekly budget. The one meal where spending $27 on two eggs and half an avocado feels completely reasonable.
Maybe you're stuck in the shackles of a long-term relationship. Better yet, you’re lost in the emotional turmoil of an un-defined, underground, sexually tantalizing situationship that neither of you will acknowledge while the sun still shines. Or maybe you're simply bored and attempting to calculate the romantic prospects of the fellow table-for-one sitting on the other side of the café. Either way, you’ve been searching for a sign from the universe, a reason to dump, devote or make that first move. Forget star signs, attachment styles, or whatever your flatmate learned from TikTok about psychology this week. The answer is sitting right there on their plate.
French Toast + Eggs Benedict
The classic. The OG combo. The foundation upon which the entire Brunch Theory rests. If one of you orders French toast and the other eggs Benedict, congratulations: you’ve passed the first test. While not determinative, this is certainly a step in the right direction. Sweet and savoury. Yin and yang. Olive-lover and olive-hater. Magnets are real, guys. Opposites really do attract and most sane people don’t actually want to date themselves.
More importantly, you’ve both committed to the real-meal end of the menu. Neither of you has opted for a muffin from the cabinet or insisted "I'm not actually that hungry” while eating half the other person’s meal. You may have sold an arm, a leg, and approximately an hour and a half of minimum-wage labour for breakfast, but you’ve done it together. That tiny café table is going to look real gorgeous covered in deep shades of berry blue and eggy yellow – almost as gorgeous as the well-rounded, over achieving child you two would pop out.
But be safe, brunch-munchers – always use protection.
Cabinet Split & Share
Picture entering the bustling ecosystem of a café, Sunday at 11am. The cabinet and its bounty is overwhelming, glinting behind obscene prices written in beautiful handwriting.
You’re floundering under the pressure to choose as the line shrinks before you. The warm, welcoming lighting, the hum of the blender, the smell of crisp bacon and coffee grounds.
It’s all becoming too much, when a melodic voice pierces through the haze of confusion: “Wanna split and share?” It’s the second coming of Christ. One buys the savoury, one buys the sweet. The best of both worlds. Two for the price of one. Infinite happiness – even Hannah Montanna can attest to that.
You have peaked – literally. You better snatch this one up and head straight to the altar, as this is as rare as getting the special Labubu. Just imagine it for a second: never having to pick between a BLT and a cinnamon scroll ever again. If your sex life isn’t exciting, then at least your brunch life is. Now that is orgasmic.
Egg Preference
Eggs are difficult. Which came first, the egg-ick or the ick? It’s a mystery no one knows the answer to. But we can make it work. Rule of thumb: if your eggs can co-exist in the same pan, then so can you. Probably. Trust the process, and no human nor egg will ever trigger your gag-reflex again. In a bad way, that is.
Scrambled and fried. Same egg, different font. Good combo. While the signs are hazy, it’s probably safe to say that you match each other's vibe. A little bit messy, a little bit all over the place, but a good balance of flavour to aesthetic appeal.
Scrambled and poached. Not good. Pretty bad, in fact. While a relationship of true strength may be capable of withstanding such a rift in connection, your one probably isn’t. Although it may be possible to look past your partner’s questionable political beliefs, egg ideology is a real thing that should not be ignored. There will be consequences, so escape while you can.
WARNING: If your partner ever sends an egg back (or any other plate for that matter) you’ve probably picked what we call in the business of Bruch Theories a ‘Trojan Millennial’. It’s all good, we’ve all made that mistake.
If you take them back to the Brunch Gods with the receipt, you might get a refund. Regardless, you should probably ditch and run, as such confrontation is not conducive to a safe brunch space and should be avoided at all costs.
Nothing
“I’m all good but you should totally get something”. Silence. Betrayal. The modern day equivalent of saying someone should go on The Biggest Loser.
How dare they. How dare they taint the beauty of brunch with the cardinal sin of refusal. This shit ain’t negotiable. Why would you even come out if you weren’t going to get brunch? Anyone who is incapable of understanding the gravity of such a claim is clearly incapable of emotion. Fuck that. Find another. They don’t understand the grindset.
The Plain Banana Smoothie
Immediate veto. Stand up, run away, and never look back. You will probably have to get a new identity, start a new life, move to somewhere equally (if not more) remote than the West Coast.
No explanation on the reasoning behind this one is needed. It’s a gut thing.
The Coffee Table
Your Go-to Order:
Small Long Black
Your diagnosis:
You’re an old soul thriving in a young body. Friends probably describe you as a little bit scary and a coffee snob with a major superiority complex.
At the end of the day you need someone who’s gonna match your no-bullshit vibe.
What to avoid:
A sucker for syrup. It’s not gonna work out. Sometimes opposites attract and sometimes opposites harbour resentment. Hozier got it right with this one – they’re truly just too sweet for your caffeine cravings.
What to chase:
A fellow Long Black lover. It’s a match made in heaven. In fifty years you two will make an adorably insufferable old couple, truly helping to keep the traditional snobby coffee culture alive. Push through any conflict that may plague your relationship in the present, knowing that your future café lifestyle is bright.
Medium Flat White
Your diagnosis:
You’re a classic babe with a classic order. While your coffee craving may be simple and easy to satisfy, the addiction runs deep and you need someone who can fulfill that thirst - a fellow caffeine feign to satiate your morning desire.
What to avoid:
A coffee cynic. You don’t need that kind of negative input in your life. If they don’t fuel the addiction then they're not worth the time. Pick another, there’s plenty of fish in the mug.
What to chase:
Any bitch and their mother who’s willing to sit down and yap over a cup of bean juice. Your order ain’t specific and neither are your romantic requirements.
For you, it’s more about the love of the game than the milk-bean-froth ratio. So get out there and find someone to fuel (and potentially fund…) that love.
Large caramel iced latte with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon, topped with whipped cream or ice cream or both (or any other order long enough to require some form of punctuation)
Your diagnosis:
So let's be real, you're not everyone's cup of tea, but that’s fine. Own your sweet (and sickly) personality, because in this generation of coffee addicts we can guarantee someone will match your vibe.
What to avoid:
The snobs. Anyone and everyone who orders anything other than your specific combination of flavours because realistically they're not gonna see the vision. It would be DEFCON 5 if a coffee date judged you for adding one syrup, let alone your usual 3.
What to chase:
Anyone willing to match your level of extravagance. Find a blank canvas and impose your order upon them, train them to love what you love and you just might reach peak caramel cream happiness.
Matcha (plain)
Your diagnosis:
If it was up to you, you’d be living in a tree and munching on grass while sitting on a mushroom thinking about grass.
Your whimsy runs deep. Like, really, really fucking deep.
What to avoid:
All those fake matcha loving posers who add any combo of strawberry-blueberry-banana syrup to their grass juice (in your words not ours). Your authentic love of dirt and their performative appreciation of aesthetic will undoubtedly cause an irreparable rift in the relationship. Swipe left. Immediately.
What to chase:
Tastebuds…
