There’s a very simple agreement when you’re invited to stay in someone’s home: you play by their rules, whether it’s taking your shoes off at the door or pretending to like their collection of porcelain frog figurines. You don’t have to agree with the house rules, but you do have to respect them, especially when those boundaries aren’t about feng shui or personal preference, but about keeping your host from making a surprise cameo in a medical drama.

Allergy etiquette in someone’s home is where safety intersects with trust, and trust sometimes packs a block of brie in its overnight bag. Our delicate hero here isn’t picky, isn’t fussy, isn’t even a lactose-intolerant killjoy. This is full-throttle, EpiPen-on-standby, bring dairy in, and I might take it with me to the afterlife territory. 

Now, most in-laws respond to this setup with the appropriate concern. No one wants their visits punctuated by the sweet sound of ambulance sirens. But not everyone can resist the siren song of dairy, especially BIL’s girlfriend, whose relationship with milk is apparently more intimate than her relationship with common sense.