These days, whenever I make grilled cheese I wish I had a girlfriend or a wife. I think I subconsciously believe the addition of a woman to my life will somehow prevent my grilled cheese from becoming burnt cheese. My mom’s grilled cheese never burned, and it was the best. Grilled cheese reminds me of lunch break when I was being homeschooled. My brothers and I would have just concluded our morning studies when Mom fixed us lunch. I always thought it was a treat to get grilled cheese on cold winter days. Lunch time was a fun break away from school, and I always knew that it was all downhill from there. Afternoon studies always went by quicker. At least that’s the way I remember things. Except for Latin. Latin was a hellish.
I’m so far away from that now.
I actually ate real food when I had a girlfriend. Not because of any desire on my part, but because she made me. It was the “cute” thing to do: a couple making their dinner in the kitchen, trading kisses while tending the stove. I’m sure my reluctance to take time to eat was frustrating for her. I know my reluctance to pay to eat was frustrating for her.
Now, things are much different. I take multivitamins not because it’s “the healthy thing to do” but because I’m scared. A hot meal is either grilled cheese or soup. My primary source of calories on weekdays is soda, peanut butter, and pop tarts. On weekends, it’s beer, peanut butter, and pop tarts. I scheme for ways to have an all liquid diet, so eating will take less time and effort. I don’t have a microwave. I only buy soup with pull off tops because I have no can opener. I’m not afraid of eating chili or ravoli straight out of the can. I lament the fact that I don’t gain any weight, while steadfastly refusing to take in any extra calories. Eating is a necessary evil, not something that is enjoyable. I’m only a glutton for fasting. I drink V8.
One day, some day, I’m going to meet a girl, fall in love, and get fat.