Food

Blue used to make the best dinners. I was always overly self-conscious about my own cooking because he could turn something as simple as chicken, a can of cream of celery soup and instant mashed potatoes into a warm, home-cooked family style meal. Before him, I never really liked eating steak, never had ribs, usually hated most meat dishes because they never tasted right when I'd prepare them. He made dinner time something I'd look forward to instead of something I dreaded because, alone, I hate eating. I especially hate eating now. If I have to eat leftover pizza, subs, crappy sandwiches, egg salad, frozen dinners and ramen for the rest of my life, I just think I'd rather get used to eating nothing whatsoever. I hate shopping, cooking and eating for one. I want to come home and smell chicken baking in the oven. I want to argue over whether or not we should have vegetables with this meal (which, obviously, we should have...he was so stubborn when it came to vegetables). I want to choose between potatoes or rice. I want him to eat all the bread because now, when I buy it, it just goes bad because I don't eat it as often as he did. I want him to magically take whatever we have in the cupboards and transform it into a dinner no one could ever replicate that I will remember forever because it was so good. I want to ask him what seasoning he used and have him smugly say, "not salt." I want to eat dinner while sitting in front of our favorite tv shows, then leaving the dishes in the sink because we're so full and tired. The only things I ever made that I think he liked were baked spaghetti and pancakes. Maybe not even that stuff, though. Maybe my entire relationship with him was a complete lie. That's what I'm supposed to believe. Why can't I just believe that and move on? Why can't I just make a home cooked meal for myself? I try, but it's just not the same. He loved cooking so much and I always felt like he added something special to his meals because he did love preparing them so much. But, I'm just crazy. Crazy and alone and writing a blog that no one will read or understand even if they do read it. I'm just supposed to hate the narcissistic sociopath and be angry and move on and be a strong, independent woman. ...not a stupid, lost, crazy little girl...