Every time I manage to destroy another dating relationship,
I realize how much I truly love eating.
My fortune has been that most of my previous girlfriends have been great
cooks, so we were compatible pairs, as I am an excellent eater. This can also be a curse, though, whenever
one of these beautiful symbiotic relations comes to a close, and my famine
begins. Now, by no means am I sexist….I
do not think it is a woman’s job to cook for her man….but it is definitely a
perk I have grown to love, especially since I am lost behind a stove.
Well, my latest relationship debacle has led to a new era of
starving bachelorhood. I am eating Ramen
Noodle, Chunky Soup, Peanut Butter and Jelly, grilled cheese, and microwave
dinners as if I am in college again… And
that’s when I am not getting fat off of Wendy’s, Burger King, Taco Bell, and
Pizza Hut. I try to order in decent
food….but I really don’t have patience for the Thai or Sushi delivery, and
going out every time you get a craving is a bit decadent.
So, I have come to a cross-road in my life, realizing it is
time to be self-sufficient when it comes to satiating my own palate. My first initiative was to buy a mini
barbeque. While I live in a Condo and
it’s not technically allowed on the balcony by “association law,” I figure a
slight bending of the rules won’t burn the place down (Pun Intended!) Grilling meat and veggies is easy and I have
been doing it with my dad for years, so a first step to better grubbing has already
been achieved.
I have also done what would have been unthinkable a few
years back. I have joined a cooking
class, one that meets twice a week. The
class really teaches the basics, providing recipes, a guide on different
spices, directions on how not to ruin rice and pastas, and summaries of the
appropriate mixes of meats, grains, and wines for dinner. Now I am not expecting to be Wolfgang Puck
over night…
but with some practice I can at least go beyond Tombstone
pizzas and Hot-Pockets. And if all else
fails, at least there are a bunch of cute single girls in some of the more
advanced classes. I can just switch
levels and look for Mrs. Right. Speaking
of which, gotta run, Yoga starts in an hour.
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