The day we got engaged we were taught how to eat mussels. A waiter you knew from law school served us. He informed us that once the meat of the first mussel had been eaten, the empty shell could be used as a tool to pull the second and third mussels from their shells. Like tweezers.
Another day, a completely other day, we ate seafood in a strange and empty ocean town on the Moroccan coast. There was calamari and fried fish. There was a dipping sauce that made you sick. I remember reading our book aloud and loud outside the bathroom door through that night. I felt helpless.