1. Order a sushi roll. Which one you choose is relatively inconsequential, although this process will be made all the more hilarious if at least one roll has a giant shrimp tail sticking out of it. Wait patiently, sip on some sake or Mr. Pibb or a Mr.Pibb/Sake bomb. Talk to your fellow dinner mates about how excited you are to eat a sushi roll. Silently and collectively agree not to bring up the fact that rolls are for sushi amateurs, but none of you can handle a big chunk of raw fish sliding down your gullet.

2. Admire your roll. It probably looks attractive, more in a “this is a delectable looking comestible, I shall consume it post haste,” than in a “I’m going to keep buying this sushi roll whiskey so maybe it’ll try to have sex with me later” sort of way. Pour yourself a small amount of soy sauce. You won’t actually be using the soy sauce, but if you don’t utilize the tiny plates they bring you, they take them out back at the end of the night and shoot them. You don’t want that on your conscience.

3. Notice the blob of wasabi and pile of ginger. Ignore these. Seasoned sushi roll eaters know how to delicately balance the spice of the wasabi with yellowtail, and also understand the useful palate-cleaning properties of ginger. But you just ordered a roll that’s 75% cream cheese, 20% fried shrimp, and 5% tears from the in-house Itamae as he bemoans the erosion of his heritage at the hands of America’s increasingly demanding arteries. These two items make your plate prettier, but the ginger kind of looks like grated tongue and that freaks you out.

4. Pick up your chopsticks. You probably know how to use these, because a dexterously-challenged orangutan could finagle a pair of chopsticks, but your knowledge will be of little use to you here. So pick up those sticks, and throw one as hard as you can at the table next to yours. Or stab it into your eye. Point is, you won’t need it. Take the other chopstick and jam it down the middle of one of your roll pieces, puncturing it like it’s the nummy bit of a lollipop. Let it sit there for a second, because it kind of looks funny. Absentmindedly flick it with your finger and watch the roll topple over on your plate. Wonder whether or not your dinner mates think you’ve forgotten that you’re supposed to be eating it.

5. Pick up the chopstick, roll bit on top. Lick it. Wiggle your tongue into the middle to see if you can dislodge all the goopy stuff inside. Realize you can’t, because duh, the stick is in the way. Completely forget you’d poured soy sauce. Pop the roll into your mouth whole. Remember too late that sushi chefs are required by law to make a roll’s diameter three centimeters larger than the average human mouth. You can barely close your teeth around it, but it’s already in there so you’ll just have to go with it. Chew without gagging. Try not to think about the fact that you’re eating raw fish and that raw fish always smells stanky. Wonder if anybody will ever make out with you ever again.

6. Keep chewing. You’re not done yet. Bits of rice are sticking to your backmost molars, a discovery you will make about 36 hours later. Take advantage of this time to reflect on your present company. Are you sitting next to someone you’re trying to/currently are/used to hook up with? How does it make you feel to know that s/he’s currently watching you gum a chunk of ricey fish with your flapping maw? Are you sitting across from your best friend? Is she likely to warn you in a timely manner that you’ve got seaweed on your chin? Or will she opt instead to let it sit and get crusty, silently enjoying this moment in which she is definitively, inarguably, exponentially prettier than you? You’re probably done chewing by now.

7. Swallow. Point out how delicious your roll is, even if it tastes like you just licked a rusty hammer. If you say you didn’t like it, those discerning sushi eaters around you will assume it’s because you have an inexperienced palate. Use descriptors like “subtle,” “tangy,” and “full.” Avoid descriptors like “fishy,” “fish-ish,” and “fishalicious.” Lay the end of your chopstick in the soy sauce and let it soak for a while. Suck on it. Stab another sushi piece, lather rinse repeat. Leave one piece remaining because you don’t want to look like a Ginormous Matilda Chompington McFattypants in front of the person you’re trying to/currently are/used to hook up with. Squish the remaining piece with the bottom of your glass and carve a smiley face into it with a fork prong, to give the impression you still have whimsical youthfulness. Realize you’re still hungry.

–Katie Sisneros