I lost my appetite a year ago. Something about being in love with someone destined to keep on hurting me also stole my love for cooking and eating. Food is love to me and the absence of it in my life left me disinterested in eating more than was necessary to survive.
I didn’t want a steak if the guy I wanted wouldn’t cook one for me. I know that sounds dramatic… but it’s the truth.
I used to bake a blue streak. Homemade marshmallows, ham, crab legs, cookies, cakes and more… I’m a card carrying domestic goddess and feel happiest in panties and an apron. I suppose in the depths of my depression over being so incredibly unsuccessful at winning his heart, I hung up my apron and pushed away my plate.
Miss Fancy has worried about me a lot in this instance. Our bubbly lunches always include her inquiring about what I’d eaten that week. She texts to ask the same. I’ve only been truly honest with her about how little I’ve actually been eating, and frankly if it weren’t for beer, I’d be a size 2 by now. Alcohol is an ugly coping mechanism when you’re already depressed, but those calories have kept me alive this year.
I met my Fancy best girl the day after my incredible date with Mr. Right. Mimosas, football and her pretty face is about as good as it gets. We were laughing and I realized something.
I was starving.
As in… order every single thing on the menu, hungry.
I settled on ahi tacos and inhaled them in minutes. I looked up to see her sparkling eyes and excited smile.
F- YOU’RE EATING!!!!!!
J- I’m starving.
F- That makes me so happy. ♥
Something shifted in feeling happy again and I can’t decide what to make first. I went to return an extremely overdue Redbox movie last night and bought half the grocery store. Single parenthood makes dating a bit difficult, so we had a hot phone date last night while I made clam chowder and baked bread. He was grinning about my panties and cherry apron uniform when he stunned me silent.
R- I want to make you dinner.
J- <swoon> I would love that.
R- You just tell me when. I love to cook. Food is my love language.
Which is when he got his nickname.
Isn’t it funny that I’ve spent a year begging for five minutes of someone’s company and all I had to do was walk away to have an incredible man pleading for a second of mine?
He called this morning and asked if he could make me breakfast after CrossFit….
Someone should probably warn him about how hungry I am…
Categories: Dating, Food, Happiness, Satisfaction, Vices
I tried your clam chowder recipe and despite burning the bottom of my pan, it turned out pretty good. Tonight though I might just get some Hydra takeout with some bakery bread bowls instead of attempting that again. So whats his nickname? Way to leave me in suspense and checking my emails for your next post to find out!