Seule maîtresse à bord

Je ne supporte pas les gens qui me disent quoi faire dans mon appartement, dans ma cuisine, dans ma vie.

Je considère que si je suis heureuse avec des murs mal peinturés, un plancher tout croche, et des plantes qui perdent leurs fleurs, ça me regarde. Si j’invite des gens à manger, je prends en compte leur aversion aux petits pois ou aux oignons. Mais, je ne changerai pas ce que je mange ou ma façon de cuisiner pour eux.

Quand je donne un cadeau, je donne quelque chose qui va faire plaisir à l’autre personne. Mais, quand je cuisine, je le fais pour moi. Je cuisine ce que j’aime manger ou ce que je réussis bien. Je cuisine des aliments que je peux manger, qui rentrent dans mes croyances alimentaires ou dans ma diète. Je n’utiliserai pas des ingrédients juste parce que quelqu’un cuisine avec ou que c’est supposément meilleur. J’aime le bacon ? Je mets du bacon. Je préfère le chocolat noir ? C’est ça que je vais mettre. Je n’aime pas la pâte, le boudin, les aubergines, je n’en fais pas. Je n’en mange pas.

Pour moi, inviter des gens à manger ça veut dire passer du temps avec eux. Pas virer folle parce que je veux les impressionner, que je me casse la tête à faire des recettes compliquées et dispendieuses. Je ne veux pas que ça devienne une source de stress.

Je suis seule maîtresse à bord chez moi. À part mon chum quand il sort du bureau et mon chat quand il revient à l’intérieur et que je n’aurai pas la paix tant que je ne lui aurai pas donné sa gâterie. Okay, là ! C’est MOI qui décide.

 

Complexe de Wanda

Not far from work there is this restaurant and there is this really cute cook. A bit older than me, tall, an indefinite accent…I can’t help but wonder where he comes from. My ears strain to listen and define the accent but…my mind wanders…I almost squirm and do contortions and have to hold my hands so I don’t touch my lips or hair and I have to refrain myself not to bat my eyelashes. I may have a Wanda complex*…

When I come in, I don’t know how he knows I’m there, but he comes out of the kitchen and comes at the register or where I’m ordering and always asks how I’m doing. It is flattering even if we never told each other our names. I know his name is Alex because I heard someone call him that the other time. I never told him my name.

I don’t go often but it’s almost always the same thing. He comes out of the kitchen, waits for me to advance in the line, says hi and then waits for me to be at the register, makes me pay and then goes back to the kitchen.

I noticed he has a ring. Not white gold or yellow gold. No diamonds or any sign. Weird color for a ring and I wonder what the ring means ? I have been meaning to ask him if he’s married to the job, to a wife or to God but I don’t know how and when. I mean it’s not like I can pull him aside and ask. There is always at least ten people when I go there.

So here I am, wondering. Not brave enough to ask and afraid that if I’m attracted it means he’s not good for me like every guy I’m attracted to. He could be a sociopath, an alcoholic, a drug addict, a player, a mysogynistic pig, a French man, a workaholic, addicted to TV, computer games, poker !! Possibilities are infinite ! Head banging here.

But if I ask at least I’ll know if he’s with someone and I’ll know he’s just friendly. My attraction will stop. I never stay attracted and flirt with guys who have girlfriends or wives, it’s just wrong. The Ten Commandments aren’t there for nothing. I’m not religious but the guy had something. But…Thou shalt not kill sounds mighty appealing at times ! Anyway.

I just hope I’ll find a time to ask him about the stupid ring before I drive myself insane about it.

*As in A Fish Called Wanda where Jamie Lee Curtis played the role of a woman who just loooved accents.

Mars 2008 : Ça, c’est mon cerveau; ça, c’est une date; ça, c’est mon cerveau sur une date

So. I had a date ! The guy is on Facebook, nice enough, not very detailed in his emails, can’t even put a picture on his profile. But I had seen him on Zoosk.

Sex, relationships, exes were not discussed online. We decided to see each other at Juliette and Chocolat. Boy was I nervous. He’s Vietnamese, he is a cook, he is learning how to do chocolates, he’s 31, has grown up here in Quebec.

I ordered a milkshake while waiting for him. He arrived late and said (first red flag) « I’m always late ».

We talked and we laughed, we like to read, we have eclectic tastes in music and books, we love to cook (obviously), we both are single and have been for more than a year.

(Second red flag) « One day, I woke up, my girlfriend was at work and there was a letter, she was leaving me. Have not seen her since. »

He invited me to go to the market with him and I said yes. Haven’t been at that specific market in a while. He started buying many things and offered to make me dinner. Didn’t want me to pay for anything. I hesitated but I agreed. He was nice. We went to many other stores : shrimps, oysters, chocolate etc. Nothing was indicating that we were more than friends or would be.

We went at his place. Clean enough, bathroom was clean, the guy has a green thumb. I went to the washroom. (Third red flag, he still has sanitary napkins from his previous relationship…three years ago and more than one toothbrush)

He cooked everything by himself, we drank rum. He was funny and charming. (Another red flag, he says he’s sorry about everything, many times during the conversation, often after I have been complimenting him). Made a pouty face when talking about his ex. (Another red flag, he works between 60 and 80 hours a week) (Oh and he smokes) He says he doesn’t have time to do anything because he works so much (red flag). He says he’s not alcoholic (Red flag he drinks a beer every day and at the end of the meal he was sitting on the floor because he drank too much).

We have things in common with our families too. He studied in Anthropology and dropped out before his Master’s because he loved cooking more than anthropology. He wanted to do something he liked. He’s a perfectionist.

He didn’t want me to leave but I would not stay even on his sofa. He asked for a massage which was okay because, well, it was with his clothes on. It was brief (massage). He is subtle…casually veering me towards The Kiss. Not subtle enough that I don’t see what’s going on. We did eventually kissed and he tried…subtly…to manipulate me to stay. I did miss two buses.

But, really I wanted to go home and my cat wasn’t fed…and I didn’t tell him before this morning (by email) that I had a migraine and was shaking. I told him many times that I wanted to take my time. Before we went to the bus, he asked for my number (yeah, I know, we hadn’t even spoken on the phone), he waited for the bus with me. And he sent me with a doggy bag…and said he wanted to have his tupperwares back.

I became so red he laughed at me. I am supposed to make him pâté chinois next week…if things go well. He called me to make sure I had arrived okay and said many times that he had a nice day. This morning (Monday) he wrote saying he had a great time, loved to kiss me, I do great massages…asked if he made me have nightmares. I said no but I hadn’t told him I had a migraine so I didn’t sleep too well, I am going to look for an acupuncturist. So he didn’t reply after that…Is it because he feels guilty (he says he’s sorry all the time), because he went to work, because he is like my mom and says nothing when someone says they’re in pain ? I said it wasn’t his fault in my email and I hadn’t told him (I thought it would « go away »).

These red flags…they bug me. My Brain. On a date. Exhausting.