I Don't Want to Cook...It's simple.

My husband keeps holding onto this fantasy that one day he's going to come home from work and there's going to be a four-course meal on the table. And every day that he comes home to no dinner, he's angry about it.

After almost 6 years, the man can't face the fact that I despise cooking. I don't want to cook. It's as simple as that. I don't like cooking; the chopping, and mixing, and stirring, and waiting. The anxiety of waiting to see if it turns out yummy or disgusting. I can do without it. Sometimes I try to cook, but I end up doing things like putting tomato sauce in spanish red beans because I forgot to get tomatoes. It's just not in my genetic make-up to cook. I'm bad at it. Awful actually. I made my father-in-law throw up one time from french toast. French Toast! And I claimed that to be one of the only things I could cook. But there he was, pale as can be, sick because I attempted to make breakfast. I don't know why my husband wants me to cook. He's a great cook! Fantastic actually! I think if he auditioned for a cooking competition, he would win because of his creativity and pazzazz for entertaining. Which is another reason why my inadequecies in the kitchen magnify when he walks in. It's embarassing, my culinary experiments.

I want to tell him, "I'm just not that woman." The woman who loves being in the kitchen and cooking turkey dinners for her family, who can't wait to try a new recipe. Ugh. The very thought of it makes me mad. I guess I'd like to be a good cook, but it's really just one of those things that I'm not good at. And it makes me angry that he insists I keep trying.

I guess it's nice he won't let me give up on myself. But geez! Can't we just order pizza??