But here’s another thing radishes and I have in common: You either love us or you don’t. We’re not for everyone. Maybe it was me, maybe it was him, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Whatever it was, that date ended quickly. But there were other dates, other guys. Not long afterward, I found someone I loved, and he loved me back: pinkness, roundness, bite, and all. We celebrated our marriage with music and dancing and a bounty of food, including—in a radiant pile of magentas and whites—a cornucopia of radishes.