Boys

I
Several beers later, and after a spontaneous bout of lovemaking (all on the sly...), he cracked six eggs, mixed in onions, peppers, salt, and fed me from dishes not even completely unpacked from cardboard boxes. He preferred taking me to clandestine lunches and brunches instead.

II
He made plenty of dishes from ingredients he found at Trader Joe's, which was within walking distance of his house. He had a penchant for Italian dishes due to his heritage, and experimented fitfully with all manner of vegetarian dishes to please our palates. He was the first to bake me a pecan pie, with a crusty little dough heart in the middle.

II and a half
We were like brother and sister (indeed, he often told me we had met in previous lives, perhaps doing hard labor together--) and he fed me Ayurvedically. Cooked spinach, potatoes, cumin, black mustard seeds: ways into my heart.

III
Spaghetti with the cheapest sauce around, with slices of avocado on top. Heaven. (Really.)

IV
I swear I got high from the Indian food. I almost lost my credit card at the restaurant. We sashayed home. When I rebuttoned my shirt, it was in all the wrong buttonholes. He told me he wanted to cook dinner for me. He never did.

V
He will cook mustard greens and black eyed peas, if I let him. In his mailbox, he received packets regarding cooking school, and his chopping skills are impeccable from having chopped in a restaurant kitchen. He is the king of fried chicken. Gravy is a specialty. He endears with homemade cookies. He is the second to make me pecan pie.