He has sophisticated taste. When we're out for drinks, he orders craft beers and fine wines. He skips the quesadillas on the app menu and goes with the scallop brochette. He is accomplished in his career, works out at the gym regularly and rents a luxury apartment.This is a timely submission because JUST YESTERDAY, a cute guy who works at Starbucks tried to chat me up, which was awkward because I had my earbuds in listening to music. Each time he made a little comment as he walked past me, I had to pop an earbud out and say, "What?" and make him repeat what he said.
Fast forward to a few hours post-drinks. We're at the door to his apartment but before we go in, he explains that he didn't expect guests tonight, so his apartment is a little messy. Turns out, it's not that bad and honestly, it probably pales in comparison to the shithole state my apartment is in.
I turned around to drop my purse on the kitchen counter and there it is: an empty box of Pasta Roni. Pasta Fucking Roni. Garlic & Olive Oil Vermicelli, to be exact.
Listen, I get it. When he's not out plying me with Allagash White and witty banter, dude is cooking for one. But Pasta Roni? Really? You can't come up with a better meal for one? First of all, that shit is about as nutritious as the cardboard box it comes in. Not to mention that it's flat out gross; over-processed flavoring and soggy, non-descript pasta that leaves him with breath like a goddamn buffalo.
Alright, so maybe it's not about it's nutritional value, or the fact that it's barely a notch up from Easy Mac. Maybe I just can't bear the thought of him hovering over his stove for 8-10 minutes, stirring frequently, then eating it straight from the pan as he peruses some blog about Wordpress plug-ins. He's supposed to be cooking steak with shitake mushroom demi-glace, while listening to great music, and indulging in a 1989 French Bordeaux.
I guess I must resign myself to the fact that our future does not include him cooking me a gourmet meal in his sleek kitchen as we discuss our latest reading lists. And that, my friend, makes me sad.
Turns out that he wanted to tell me that he was in a good mood because there was a deal at the supermarket where they had Kraft Mac and Cheese, 3 for 99 cents. He even went to the back room, took them out and shook them at me like boxy cassanettes. He was clearly pumped at the bargain. I crinkled my nose because WHO BRAGS ABOUT BUYING MAC AND CHEESE? I was like, "Cool story, bro. I popped an earbud out for that?"