I Don’t Even Know Me Anymore: A Love Story

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Being in a new relationship brings with it so many…well…new things. Over the last year I have experienced things I never would have had I not met him. And some things I *had* experienced in my younger years and planned on leaving them there–locked away in the past. Like a really bad dream. Well, that’s what I get for planning.

I’ve learned a lot in the last 12 months. I know words like cryptosporidium and staphylococcus and I know what kills them. I even know about Corona discharge, which, by the way, has nothing to do with Mexican beer. I listen to him on the phone, doing his work thing, talking about ozone and feces. And I think wow, he’s really smart. And then he hangs up and asks me if I want to go to the all you can eat Chinese buffet down the street. Which if you know me at all…gross. And I wonder, who is this guy?

But I do it anyway. I get my plate and I load up on things like fried rice and chicken and broccoli and egg rolls. They appear edible enough. I absolutely draw the line at the oysters on the half shell and smoked salmon and pickled eggs–at a Chinese buffet. Because that shit’s an open invitation to food poison. And while yes, puking my guts up for a couple of days would make buttoning my favorite jeans a little easier, I’m not so keen on the “puking” part. So I mostly stay with the foods that don’t set off my gag reflexes.

I’m not saying I’m too good for the Chinese buffet. Because really, do I have to say it?

When I was a kid I spent a lot of time with people who didn’t (or didn’t know how to) cook. And when they did it was mostly boxed, canned, and processed food. And I liked it because I didn’t know any different. When I became an adult and learned that you didn’t have to eat things like Hamburger Helper or Spam or canned asparagus–that there were other (and better!) options out there–I turned my nose up to them and never looked back. Until recently.

Last week he sent me a text message while I was out running errands. I believe it said this. “How about Hamburger Helper beef stroganoff for lunch.”

On the one hand I was horrified because seriously, I had no idea that would ever be an option AGAIN. EVER. But on the other, he’s so sweet and wants to make me lunch!

So. I agreed.

It’s not just about food, though. I know WAY TOO MUCH about English Premier soccer, and I even watch it sometimes. Which, again, if you know me you know I hate soccer. Hate. But you know what? He has a really nice face. So I sit there and try and seem interested. It’s what you do for love, people.

I’m not expecting some statue to be erected in my honor because of all the “sacrifices” I’m making to make this person happy. I just wanted to let you all know that I am. Happy.

Really happy.

You know what else makes me happy? Valentine’s Day treats. Check out this spread!