This may surprise you, but I am capable of commitment. Quiet your gasps and close up your gaping mouths. A few years ago I was actually in a rather serious relationship. We lived together and did the whole “planning for the future” together. We were a good match in many ways, one of which was our ability to have fun in every situation. Our date nights usually consisted of finding the local dive bar and taking control of the juke box, playing darts and then having a dance party together in our kitchen. Although some may have said we had an alcohol “problem,” we did have great fun!
On one particular Friday I had plans to go out for a friend’s birthday. Live-In Boyfriend was tired and decided to stay in. The details of the night are a tad bit blurry but from what I do recall I had a conversation with a non-English speaking man (I am not fluent in Spanish), cried to my friend’s parents (who I had just met) about how much I loved my own parents, and had a long conversation with an 85-year-old alcoholic with questionable hygiene who thought I looked like a young Marlo Thomas.
Then, later in the evening, I purchased some pasta.
Next thing I know, I wake up to the sound of my Live-In Boyfriend giggling. My head is pounding, my body feels like I’ve been beaten and I’m trying to piece together the previous evening. “What’s so funny?” I groggily asked.
“You remember coming home last night?” he asked in between giggles. “Um, kinda,” I replied, beginning to worry about what I may have said or did. “You’re probably not hungry at all this morning, are you?” he asked. At this point I’m really confused, as I do have some rather serious heartburn but also remember making my pasta purchase to go.
To make a long story short, apparently I noisily arrived back home and, of course, woke him up with my stomping. He said after a few minutes he heard nothing but quiet and worried that I may have passed out on the couch. There were no lights on, but thankfully (for him) it was a full moon that evening. As he crept to the living room to check on me he saw me very much awake. And apparently very hungry. I was eating my pasta. Naked. With my hands. We are talking mad grabbing of pasta with my bare hands and shoving it into my mouth!
At first, I refused to believe him. I could believe the naked part, yes, and could even believe the eating with my hands part … but combined? No way.
He said the proof would be in the marinara fingerprints I likely left around the apartment. And what do you know? My clothes were in a heap in our dining room, and there was pasta sauce covering a large area of the living room table, bathroom, sink, etc. There was basically a marinara trail down the hallway!
Apparently I was afraid I would get lost and pulled a Hansel & Gretel to find my way back from the bedroom.
“Why didn’t you stop me?!” I exclaimed in embarrassment. His response? “You were in a zone. And I was afraid of what would happen if I disturbed you.” So he slowly backed away trying to stifle the laughter.
We actually were together for some time after that. I never could quite live that down, though. I’m not sure you ever really look at someone the same way after you see her eating pasta animal style while naked.
Moral of the Story:
If you’re eating something that involves sauce, it’s probably a good idea to use silverware. If you’re planning on not using silverware, it’s probably a good idea to keep your clothes on. Or, at the very least, ensure you are home alone so no one accidentally witnesses the feeding.
And I wonder why I’m single.