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Friday, August 05, 2005

To cook or not to cook?

My blind date and I were talking about manual labor recently, and I was joking about how I avoid it at all costs. The bartender chimes in, "if you don't cook and clean, no man is ever going to want you. You'll be 38 and wondering why you're alone, and it'll be because you don't cook."

Whoa? When did it come to this? Should I rush out and take some classes right this moment? Where does one even purchase an apron these days - I don't recall seeing them at Bloomingdales?!

I was pretty offended by what the bartender said, not because I'm a feminist, and not because I'm actually afraid of being 38 and eating takeout alone and wondering where it all went wrong. No, I was offended because where on earth does a fricking hourly worker get off shoving his opinion down my throat (during a date no less!)? What makes him think he knows anything about me? Worse yet, does he not realize that 38 is over a decade away? Is my eye cream not working?

So should I be worried? I take comfort in knowing there are lots of men out there who like to cook, or better yet like to eat out. The key is to find one of them. Or at least find one who likes tortellini, chili or grilled cheese (the 3 things I cook).

If a guy is looking for little Suzy homemaker, alas, it ain't me. More power to the girl who can provide that and bring in six figures and maintain her slim figure and chase around the rugrats. With me, he'll have to settle for 2 or 3 out of 4. I'm pretty realistic about what I have to offer. Good career prospects? Check. Witty banter? Hell yeah. Successful beauty regiment? So I've been told. Passionate? But of course. But a good cook? Sorry that's where I take a pass. I'm willing to try to learn, but I simply cannot foresee a day when I'll want to cook an elaborate meal every night. If that's enough of a deal breaker for a guy, then c'est la vie, but I have a hard time believing the 35 year old guy tending bar is the authority on what all men, particularly the men I'd like (i.e. not him) want.

It would have been all to easy to believe what that guy had to say, but where would that leave me? Grumpy and standing over a stove! Perhaps the bartender just didn't realize how fast my dialing fingers and how vast my takeout menu collection are?

Love,

Biatch

PS... Hey bartender, you know what else I don't do? Paint the walls, change the oil, mow the lawn or sew. I'm pretty sure I can hire someone to do those things for me if push comes to shove. Looking for a dayjob?