My wife was on her way home for lunch today, so I made her a big, pretty salad. I took a big scoop of spring mix lettuce leaves from a plastic tub we had bought at the store the other day, added some wasabi-ranch fritters, a few green olives, two cherry tomatoes, some bean sprouts, a drizzle of sweet Italian dressing, and the rest of the crumbled gorgonzola cheese.
I paused before I put the cheese on. My parents are coming over tonight to watch the kids for us, and I always like to have the fridge and cabinets stocked with food and drink, so they know we are flourishing, and that they did a good job raising me. In my mind, my mom would open the fridge and see the gorgonzola cheese and say, oh, wow. Gorgonzola cheese. Spencer must know more about jazz than we thought.
But I decided I loved my wife more than I needed my parents to think I was sophisticated, so I put the rest of the cheese on the salad. I didn’t tell her all of this when she walked in; Instead I said, look at this gorgeous salad I made for you? Isn't it beautiful? Don’t you just want to have sex with it?