Sunday, September 02, 2007
one of the many reasons.
The Cute knows about my disordered eating history and my warped body image. he sticks around anyway. a few weeks ago, we were eating at the diner after The Police concert. he got the club sandwich, and i ordered a veggie burger and fries. we were noshing away when he stopped to point out that while i'd been very certain to specify whole grain bread for my burger (i did everything but write it down for the waiter), i'd removed it from my plate, and hadn't eaten a bit of it. i laughed:
"yeah, i know. makes zero sense."
i then ordered a piece of the double fudge chocolate layer cake.
this week, we dined at the same delightfully tacky diner before i left for my pal's wedding in connecticut. i ordered another veggie burger with fries. The Cute, a reuben. my burger arrived sandwiched between two giant white bread buns reminiscent of Princess Leia's hairdo. as i nibbled the mozzarella off the bread and put the bun's remains to the side, i pointed out:
"i didn't specify a bread this time cuz i knew i wasn't gonna eat it."
"well, couldn't you eat some of the bread they do bring you?"
The Cute. soooo logical.
"yes, i could, but i'd rather save room for the spicy waffle fries."
"i have issues," i say with a shrug, smiling through a mouthful of spicy waffle fry dipped in blue cheese dressing.
he stops. looks at me with affectionate amusement.
"you have cute issues. TOO. MUCH. CUTE."
no double fudge chocolate layer cake necessary today. this boy is sweet enough.