B & I reminisced on how bad of a cook I used to be and we couldn’t stop laughing. I had to ask “Was I really that bad? Or were you just very picky?”

“You were really bad.”

“What did I used to make?”

“Pasta with canned sauce, boiled cabbage, crab corn soup with lots of crab shells in it.”


Then I remembered the onion fiasco and almost choked on my fruit laughing (mostly at myself). I was so bad that when he finally commented on how much he liked the caramelized onions, I caramelized an entire onion for him. Just that and a tiny steak on a plate. No veggies. I was so excited when I piled the onions on his plate.

He was confused, disappointed, and upset.

“Why is there so much onion?”

“You said you like onion.”

“That doesn’t mean I want an entire onion!”

I was so hurt and mad after that. I was waiting for praises but the asshole complained again. I didn’t cook for him for a while after that.


It must’ve been devastated moving from his mom’s place to mine. She’s a really good cook and I was just…awful. My mom cooks like she’s doing a lab experiment and my dad’s an easy eater.

We had very different mothers.

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