The single greatest tasting dead cow I ever put in my mouth and swallowed crossed my plate yesterday. Cooked it up myself. Seared it on all sides then placed it in a slow cooker. One can of Campbell’s Beef Broth, Lipton Onion Soup, pepper, seasoning salt, garlic explosion blend, and one cup of water all added up to something truly blog worthy.
Actually, the bar’s pretty low for what’s deemed blog worthy, but still, this was really, really, REALLY good. I had no idea I could serve up something so tasty. Generally, I consider myself to be an okay cook, but this was truly exceptional.
The only downside is that I couldn’t find someone to share the meal with. Insert sad smiley face here.
I don’t really have a lot of friends. I get along well with almost everyone. I can easily plug myself into different ‘groups’ of people. I can make everyone laugh. My life is not lacking for people to have meaningful relationships with. I can put myself out there, and find something to do in a heart beat.
Picking up the phone on a Monday night and finding someone to come over on a moment’s notice… that’s a tricky proposition. Actually, it’s more complicated than it sounds. If I pick up the phone and invite one of my guy friends over, it would be kind of gay. I don’t have a problem with gay people, but single straight men don’t invite other single straight men over for supper. This isn’t ‘come over and watch the game with me,’ or ‘check out my new toy,’ or ‘help me hang my art.’ It’s ‘come over and eat a dead cow with me, and maybe we can find something to talk about.’
Inviting a woman over for such an activity requires a special approach. If she’s just a friend, and she’s got nothing else going on, no problem. If she’s someone whom I’d like to be more than friends with, well… such spontaneity requires calculations of a thinky thought variety. I mustn’t look too desperate, or too casual, or too thoughtless, or too… desperate. It has to seem like a special effort, without seeming like a special effort. And then she has to be free for the evening.
One final category is ‘fuck buddy’. You don’t invite fuck buddies over for dead cow supper because you risk clouding the relationship. You could accidentally communicate that you want the relationship to progress beyond a casual easy thing. Things get dramatic. You need to have ‘the talk.’
So as I said… I wound up eating the greatest dead cow meal of my life, by myself, and all alone… with no one around but me.