I am definitely NOT the Julia Child of the Gays

You guys, I have a confession to make. I have cooked about FOUR TIMES since 2003. I swear to GOD, this is the honest truth.

And I remember the four times that I have cooked in the past ELEVEN YEARS very vividly. They were:

1. The night I moved into my first apartment.
2. The night I moved into the first house I bought.
3. The night I bought my second house.
4. The night I lost my virginity...for the second time...(It just felt like the right thing to do, since it was christmas eve, all the restaurants were closed, the guy was really hungry, and there were eggs and tomatoes in the fridge for some reason...)

Anyways, the point is, I have honestly only cooked/prepared a meal for myself about four times in the last eleven years. I've basically eaten out at restaurants every single meal. Breakfast is ALWAYS something at Starbucks, usually a pastry with coffee. Lunch is always either Qdoba, Jimmy John's, Subway, some Thai or Asian restaurant. And then dinner...basically is me and the boyfriend driving up and down washington state looking for a new restaurant to try every night, whether it is the Cheesecake factory, or some family owned Mexican restaurant...whatever looks interesting.

My boyfriend's mom (who still thinks that I'm that Asian reporter on channel 7 news, because, OF COURSE ALL ASIANS LOOK ALIKE), thinks that this is madness, you can't go through life eating every single meal at a restaurant. (However, she calls my people "the orientals," so my opinion of her opinions are...ehhhh...)

Basically, I just don't like cooking. I don't like having to wash dishes, silverware, bake and fry things. I always make a mess when I cook. And when I share the food I cook with people, words like "attempted murder," and "oh god I think I'm dying" gets thrown around. They say this at a time when I'm actually NOT trying to poison them for once, do you know how hurtful that is?

The other night, I got out a frying pan, and my boyfriend looks at me with SHEER TERROR in his eyes, like I was preparing to drown a baby or something.

MY BOYFRIEND: What are you doing with that thing?
ME: I was thinking of cooking.
MY BOYFRIEND: Cooking? What's that?
ME: You know...where I heat food and we eat it?
MY BOYFRIEND: Don't lie to me, you don't know how to cook. Did you take out another life insurance policy on me? Am I going to die? Is this where you kill me?

Needless to say, we ended up at the cheesecake factory.

I had thought about putting "cooking" as one of my new years resolutions, but I can see that this clearly won't pan out.