This is first in a series of posts about men who ask / demand me to cook for them. Let me be clear. I am not averse to cooking for my man. In fact, I can be highly domesticated when motivated. The better part of my adult life has been spent packing lunches, making dinners and throwing dinner parties in the name of love.
No love here, but the hope of love, so really almost better than love. After what can only be described as a typical, relatively unexciting, weeknight date I start to yawn. Then, exaggeratingly yawn coupled with: “boy I’m beat! Long day ahead at work tomorrow” (hint, the date is over buddy time to go home). Slow or unwillingly to take the hint, boy is invited to sleepover. Key word here being sleep.
2am I am wrenched from my beauty sleep by tossing and turning.
“Ok?” I say (totally annoyed. If you couldn’t sleep at least have the decency to stay very very still as I was sleeping soundly. Thank you).
“I’m hungry.”
Silence (so what do you want me to do about it).
“Do you have any meat and pasta???”
“I have snacks. Go ahead and look in the kitchen.”
‘No, I’m REALLY hungry. I need meat and pasta to fill me up. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I eat something heavy” (it is now clear to me he wants ME to GET UP and go into the kitchen at 2am on a weeknight to make him a goddamn Sunday dinner).
“Then you should probably go home.”
And he did. Last date. I should have known when on the fist date he exclaimed: “when are you going to cook like that for me woman?!.” Red flag! Red flag!
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