I mostly don't get on with crustacea. Lobster is a bit meh, it's just a big prawn. People go mental over it, but really, it's just a big prawn. And little prawns aren't very exciting, so making them bigger isn't an improvement. As for dismembering an entire one, come on, that's straight out of a horror movie. I'm sure I've told the story of my date in Boston, where she wrenched open the recently deceased corpse of one of Maine's finest and splattered me with horrific green guts. She was wearing the little apron (and other clothes, of course, it's New England). I was wearing a nice shirt. That said, after decorating me with lobster anatomy, she pretty much had to take me home to apologize properly without the apron (or any other clothes). She even washed my shirt.
Crabs. I can live with the meat, some linguine, chili, lemon, and olive oil. But again, in the shell, good god. I use to get dragged to the crab shacks they have around the Chesapeake and downtown Baltimore. You know the bit at the end of Starship Troopers, it's basically that. Limbs and guts everywhere. Soft shell crabs, sure I'd like to eat an alien, who wouldn't.
And not, I'm not sucking the brains out of crayfish, not even if I'm surrounded by heavily-armed West Virginians encouraging me to do just that.
Stuff in shells, always tastes like chewy snot, costs a lot more than any kind of snot, and comes with a fair chance of the bonus final round in which you get to spend the rest of the night praying to the porcelain.
Raw fish, I can keep it down, but I can't think of a reason why I'd want to have to keep it down in the first place. The texture makes me feel sick. I can't do fatty food either, again it's the texture. I'm the life and soul of any meal in the far-east. That said, I remember the first time I went to Japan and I had a week of traditional meet and greet with the full ceremony and meals. On the last day, they took me for a Mexican. The best burrito of my life (OK, a lie, the best one was from a truck in LA, sat between law and disorder).