The Squeeze and I have been dating for a while now, going on four years, I guess. And that's just this time! Over the years, I've told him repeatedly that I don't cook, I don't like to cook, I can't cook.
Confession: I can cook just fine. I just didn't want him--or anyone--expecting me to cook all the time. Or ever, really. Sometimes (usually) I'm cool with having a bowl of cereal and letting anyone else fend for themselves.
But, now that I'm living so far from my parents that I can't visit them regularly just for comfort food, I've been cooking a bit more regularly. I've cooked like, three times in the last two weeks, and he hasn't tried a single bite.
First, it was bean soup, and I thought, okay, maybe he doesn't like bean soup. Then it was home-made mini pizzas, which I was sure would be a hit. They were pretty darn tasty. Nope. But then, they did have whole-wheat crusts, so maybe that scared him away. Spaghetti. Everybody likes spaghetti, right? I even cooked meat for it. (I'm not a vegetarian, meat is just expensive and takes a whole 'nother step to prepare and one more dish to wash.) So the spaghetti was, you know, manly.
It was also a no-go.
Want to know what I think? Well, you're here, so I'm going to take that as a yes.
I think I did my job too well. I have convinced him that I don't cook, I don't like to cook, I can't cook.
The Squeeze is absolutely terrified of eating anything I've had a hand in preparing. And he really doesn't even have any reason, if you overlook the fact that that's what I've told him a whole bunch of times, and that one time I made pancakes and he puked for hours.
That could have just been a bug, you know.
(True: My specialties are Kraft Mac'n'Cheese and frozen pizza. I should totally have a contract with Food Network. (That's a thing, right? Food Network?))
Coco isn't a picky eater.