It really is amazing when chicks brag about not being able to cook, iron, or do anything else domestic. I met a fatty a few days ago (a friend of a friend, not on my own), who proudly declared that she "irons" by bringing her clothing to the cleaners and can only cook things in the microwave. I only stayed quiet because I knew the guy who introduced us, and he was right there, but on the inside I wondered: "What are you offering the world? You're ugly on the outside and inside. You have no skills. You have a shitty, generic office job that you think sounds impressive. You're not charming. You try to make people laugh by insulting them. If you were 50 pounds lighter, I'd still have a hard time being aroused by you."
Cooking for a girl does, as Mike says, do miracles for getting them to come back. But I never feel good making a nice dinner for a girl who is actually incapable--never mind willing--to do the same for me. It feels dirty, like a sick, uneven bizarro world where I now do everything: approach her, make the plans, regale her with well-polished stories, make her a drink, make her laugh, seduce her, hand her one of my t-shirts to sleep in. Now I also have to do the cooking? Fuck that. What's next: give birth too?
I recently met a chick who actually knows how to cook. She was proud of it. In fact, she might--based on her obvious knowledge--be a better cook than me (and I'm quite competent, for an amateur anyway). She'll be the first chick in at least three months who I'll likely invite for a dinner-at-home date. The last one won the privilege by always doing my dishes (unsolicited) and because she lived in a place with literally no kitchen (a dorm room). She was so grateful to eat "real food," and mourned that I only cooked for her once--but only when I brought it up first. She even took the left-overs and ate them, texting me about how much more delicious they were re-heated. She returned my tupperware clean, while thanking me for the third or fourth time.
Cooking for a girl does, as Mike says, do miracles for getting them to come back. But I never feel good making a nice dinner for a girl who is actually incapable--never mind willing--to do the same for me. It feels dirty, like a sick, uneven bizarro world where I now do everything: approach her, make the plans, regale her with well-polished stories, make her a drink, make her laugh, seduce her, hand her one of my t-shirts to sleep in. Now I also have to do the cooking? Fuck that. What's next: give birth too?
I recently met a chick who actually knows how to cook. She was proud of it. In fact, she might--based on her obvious knowledge--be a better cook than me (and I'm quite competent, for an amateur anyway). She'll be the first chick in at least three months who I'll likely invite for a dinner-at-home date. The last one won the privilege by always doing my dishes (unsolicited) and because she lived in a place with literally no kitchen (a dorm room). She was so grateful to eat "real food," and mourned that I only cooked for her once--but only when I brought it up first. She even took the left-overs and ate them, texting me about how much more delicious they were re-heated. She returned my tupperware clean, while thanking me for the third or fourth time.