Disaster area
I tried to cook again today.
I get this weird urge about once every month or so, to see if I'm still as crap at it as I was last time. I usually am.
I made (or attempted to make) hamburger with mashed potatoes and sweet corn. The sweet corn was edible. Go me! The hamburger had all the texture and flavour of an old shoe, and the potato was very blah (though, really, I should have mashed actual potatoes instead of adding powder to hot water and hope for the best).
This is one of the many reasons why I honestly believe I will end up alone. Because I myself don't mind that I'm a shite cook, but I know the male species tend to.
Don't get me wrong, I haven't got problems with my self-esteem or something; I quite like myself the way I am. But the truth is, not a lot of other people do, and especially not eligible guys. I mean, I am not very attractive, physically or socially. I'm short, I've got bad skin, and I don't wear high heels or earrings or make-up. I don't do shopping for clothes and rom-coms. I don't think handbags and Desperate Housewives and Alicia Keys are the best things since sliced bread.
Instead I like artsy films and epic action movies and mystery TV series. I listen to music I love for the harmony of the instruments, not because it's got a hummable tune or can be danced to. I love Shakespeare and Wilde and Wodehouse, and things that make me think. I read 'The Lord of the Rings' front to back, continuously. I dress up and go to fairs and conventions so that I can pretend I'm not me, because I'm really afraid of crowds and of talking to people I don't know, when I'm me.
Problem with me is, really, that there seems to be some sort of manual about how to behave around other people, that I've never been made privy to. When I look around me, I can see people interacting, communicating with each other so easily, and I wonder how the fuck they do it.
In all my life, I've only come across one guy who looked past my being a social disaster area and liked me for who I am (though, come to think of it, he didn't know about the cooking). But lately I've been feeling like I'm one of those quirky no-name brand products in the supermarket, that everyone passes without even noticing, on their way to the familiar brands, and which gets thrown away after the sell-by date.
I'm going to be twenty-five in a few weeks, and it sort of feels like my own personal sell-by date. It makes me kind of sad, even though I've known pretty much my whole life that I'd stay alone if I insisted on being who I am.
That doesn't change the fact that I still like myself for who I am. And if no one but me can do this, then so be it.
I get this weird urge about once every month or so, to see if I'm still as crap at it as I was last time. I usually am.
I made (or attempted to make) hamburger with mashed potatoes and sweet corn. The sweet corn was edible. Go me! The hamburger had all the texture and flavour of an old shoe, and the potato was very blah (though, really, I should have mashed actual potatoes instead of adding powder to hot water and hope for the best).
This is one of the many reasons why I honestly believe I will end up alone. Because I myself don't mind that I'm a shite cook, but I know the male species tend to.
Don't get me wrong, I haven't got problems with my self-esteem or something; I quite like myself the way I am. But the truth is, not a lot of other people do, and especially not eligible guys. I mean, I am not very attractive, physically or socially. I'm short, I've got bad skin, and I don't wear high heels or earrings or make-up. I don't do shopping for clothes and rom-coms. I don't think handbags and Desperate Housewives and Alicia Keys are the best things since sliced bread.
Instead I like artsy films and epic action movies and mystery TV series. I listen to music I love for the harmony of the instruments, not because it's got a hummable tune or can be danced to. I love Shakespeare and Wilde and Wodehouse, and things that make me think. I read 'The Lord of the Rings' front to back, continuously. I dress up and go to fairs and conventions so that I can pretend I'm not me, because I'm really afraid of crowds and of talking to people I don't know, when I'm me.
Problem with me is, really, that there seems to be some sort of manual about how to behave around other people, that I've never been made privy to. When I look around me, I can see people interacting, communicating with each other so easily, and I wonder how the fuck they do it.
In all my life, I've only come across one guy who looked past my being a social disaster area and liked me for who I am (though, come to think of it, he didn't know about the cooking). But lately I've been feeling like I'm one of those quirky no-name brand products in the supermarket, that everyone passes without even noticing, on their way to the familiar brands, and which gets thrown away after the sell-by date.
I'm going to be twenty-five in a few weeks, and it sort of feels like my own personal sell-by date. It makes me kind of sad, even though I've known pretty much my whole life that I'd stay alone if I insisted on being who I am.
That doesn't change the fact that I still like myself for who I am. And if no one but me can do this, then so be it.