Food == Love

The boy cooks for me pretty regularly - we have a good system worked out wherein I buy groceries and he turns them into food. This is a particularly good system since I have more disposable income and he can actually cook. By now this has taken on the flavor of routine rather than romance. But this past week I was a bit under the weather, just enough to be whiny, and he showed up mid-week to make mac-n-cheese (with bacon!) and brownies. He had also cooked the previous weekend and by Thursday I realized that the majority of my meals that week had been provided, either directly or in the form of leftovers, by him. Then it occurred to me that I haven't felt this well-cared for since I lived with AWB.

Meet-cute

We were at a birthday party last night, and one of the party games involved sitting quietly while the people who know you introduce you to the rest of the room. I sort of flubbed the boy's introduction - I get nervous and awkward about public declarations of romantic feelings (surprising, I know). But the boy did a lovely job:

I met Megan at our friends' wedding, but we've since reconstructed that we were probably introduced at a handful of parties before then. Then she came to a baseball game with a group of us, showed up for my roommate's birthday party a week early, then came to the actual birthday party. Then she asked me out. On our second date she was sitting on the back of my bike when some girls crossed the street in front of us wearing uggs. I asked, "You...you don't own uggs, do you?" She said, "No! You...you don't wear crocs, do you?" It's been working out pretty well since then. Oh, and she has a PhD in statistics, which I think is very sexy.