I admit it.
My dad gave me quite the predilection.
I only love boys who can cook and boys who know food.
If you don’t know your gouda from your havarti, we are not going to hit it off.
Seduce me with your knife skills… I can’t get enough.
So imagine the smile on my face when a cute man sits at the bar and I see chef knives tattooed on his arm.
So hot. So cool. I am such a sucker for a cute boy with tattoos…. and he’s sitting next to the Baby Chicken.
Messy. Eeek. Hmm. He’s smiling at me and I’m a little confused. He’d come in once before with the same girl, and I assumed they were on a date.
The Chicken is grinning at me. Damn it. How do you navigate this one?
You don’t…. because it’s an asshole move.
After work and across the street having a beer with my co-workers, Delicious & the Chicken, I feel soft fingers on my elbow.
When I look up? There’s Mr. Perfectpants- smiling at me.
P- So. What’s your story?
J- Where’s your girlfriend?
P- Just a friend. Not a girlfriend.
I turn around and she’s actually kissing one of my co-workers. I stand corrected. The Chicken is standing next to me, dropping his usual unpleasant comments in my direction.
Mr. Perfectpants frowns a little, and hands me his card, with his number on the back.
P- I want to get to know you.
J- Wow, um- thanks?
P- You’re way too cool to put up with that asshole. It’s not my place, but I think you should know.
And the world exploded… and the Baby Chicken hit the fan.
and I called Mr. Perfectpants, praying for a glass of wine and his adorable smile.
And there he was…smiling at me.
Gourmet words fall from his smiling lips as I fall head over heels in love with the idea of this adorable man.
Damn my dad for giving us all a food fetish, and bless his soul for arming us with the tools to exploit a man with food… it’s no wonder we’re all weak in the knees if a boy can match our Dad in the kitchen.
This is the first one I’ve met that could.
With a dog even, that he adores and takes everywhere… a dog that instantly listens to me too… what a good doggie.
But then I have a way with dogs. lol.
The scariest thing… is that he’s armed with the most deadly of weapons…. a baby girl.
Oh my…don’t I have a rule about that? No babies?
I can handle the kitchen quirks. I can keep up with dinner and blow him out of the water with dessert.
But a baby girl is my Achilles. Tiny pink socks? Baby giggles? Playing peek-a-boo & patty cake… singing & rocking a baby to sleep….