A: I don’t like cooking.
A: I cook because I am the only one who can cook and feed the tummies in my home.
B: But don’t you cook 3 meals a day?
A: Yes, I do. I have been cooking 3 meals a day regularly since 2013 which makes it 8 years now. The meals were less edible in the beginning whereas, now, the frequency of I churning out edible meals has increased.
B: See. Then you must have learned to love cooking!
A: Not at all. Love is a distant word which can ever come close to cooking in my mind.
B: You are a strange woman. I have not known any woman who doesn’t love cooking.
A: In that case, you must meet my friends and you might realise you have not known enough women.
A: Tell me, do you like cooking?
B: Yes I do.
A: Then you must be cooking often?
B: No I don’t get enough time because of my work but I cook special dishes when I feel like. My wife cooks mostly.
A: Yeah. Of course.
In the above conversation, A is me and B is Mr. B.
Yesterday, I was speaking to a female friend and she began the same way as Mr. B did about how I must have learned to love cooking after so many years of doing the same. I gave her the same answer that I haven’t. Further adding – I am sure I cannot ever because if love has not happened in the last 8 years then the future possibility of a love story developing between me and cooking is far too bleak.
“You never pretend na,” she said to me.
“Never. There is no need to,” is always my stand.
Joining #MondayMusings hosted by Corinne Rodrigues