Keeping expectations low since 1983

The roomate (now fiancee, although I refuse to use that word as it brings to mind elbow-length gloves and afternoon croquet matches) made a comment the other day about the ease with which we transitioned to living together. While I think this speaks volumes about our relationship and how we get along so well, I think it also speaks to the roomate's easygoing nature. I'm sure it was more of a transition for him than it was for me, as I ploughed through the door, my arms full of pink pillows, picture frames and furniture adorned with flowers.

"LET'S MAKE THIS THE GUEST ROOM!" I squealed, as I rounded the corner to his then-roommate's bedroom. His then-roommate was still there, but did that stop me from pausing at the door to envision the pretty flowered bedspread and vintage-inspired accents that would transform the room? I'd like to say it did, but no, IT DID NOT.

Cohabitation has been swell, and the roommate has agreed to pretty much all decor changes, handing over the reigns and admitting that I'm "better at this stuff" and that the place looks great.

In the glow of my new role as roommate, along with keeping a warm and cozy apartment, I also wanted to kick some ass in the kitchen. I gathered all of my cookbooks and marked the recipes I would try with those little neon page markers. I shopped, planned, and cooked. I made sure that three nights a week, there was something new and exciting on the table. Some of the dishes were really good, and were met with an enthusiastic full-mouthed grunt that sounded something like "keeper!" He would never go so far as to tell me he didn't like something, but would fall silent after taking the first bite. Never the less, I trudged on, scouring my books, and the grocery shelves, feeling every bit the devoted roommate I knew I was. 

One night a couple of weeks ago, I worked until 5 p.m. and the roommate worked night shift, leaving us with about an hour from the time I got home to the time he had to leave for work. I called and told him I would pick up something quick for dinner on the way home.

When I got home about 15 minutes later, he peeked in the grocery bag and let out a "WOOO!" 

"OH YEAH!" he said. "I LOVE THESE! I HAVEN'T HAD THESE IN SO LONG! I MISS MEALS LIKE THIS!"

 

Eat your freakin' heart out, Julia Child. 

 

As he ate, the roomate oohed and ahhed over the meal.

 

"You know what?" he said, as he sopped up the last of his mustard. "We should do meals like this more often. Your fancy suppers are good, but sometimes you just want a pig in a blanket, you know?" 

 

I guess there are some aspects of bachelorhood that will never change. And you know what? TOTALLY OK WITH THAT.