"He looked at me as if I were a side dish he hadn't ordered"

A man is being observed not just with disinterest, but with a subtle edge of annoyance, confusion, or even dismissal. The comparison to an unrequested side dish conjures an image of something peripheral, something superfluous, almost intrusive. There is an implicit social transaction in a meal: every item on the plate is there deliberately, expected, even anticipated. When a side dish arrives unexpectedly, it breaks the transaction; it’s not necessarily wanted, it’s simply tolerated, perhaps even resented, mingling with the meal without truly belonging. The person being looked at becomes that dish, present, perhaps even acknowledged, but hardly desired.

The use of food in this metaphor injects layers of nuance. A side dish, after all, is rarely the centerpiece. Main courses take precedence, are the objects of craving, while sides are supplementary. Here, a person’s presence is relegated to afterthought, to something garnered out of habit or accident rather than intention. There is an exploration of identity through another’s eyes: how quickly a person can be diminished to a role or object when expectations are unmet or desires unsparked.

Subtly, the metaphor carries a sense of polite forbearance mixed with distance. When a diner receives a dish they did not order, they might offer a tight-lipped smile, push it aside, or ignore it entirely; rarely does the unanticipated plate become the star of the meal. So, too, the man’s glance carries this layered emotion, he’s neither hostile nor warm. He is thrown, inconvenienced ever so slightly, but ultimately disengaged.

Ring Lardner’s phrase unspools a situation governed by understated social codes, unspoken judgments, and the ever-fraught project of being seen and desired. The subject’s sense of otherness is acute; all at once, he exists on the table of someone else’s attention, but never truly finds a place on their menu.