I’m very torn, you guys. I love sandwiches, but I hate this lede about sandwiches.
My boyfriend, Eric, is the gourmet cook in our relationship, but he’d always want me to make him a sandwich.
Each morning, he would ask, “Honey, how long you have been awake?”
“About 15 minutes,” I’d reply.
“You’ve been up for 15 minutes and you haven’t made me a sandwich?” (Via)
No one should ever be forced into making a sandwich. Sandwiches are born out of bread and love and at least four kinds of meat, hold the tomatoes. But for the past year-plus, New York Post Page Six senior reporter Stephanie Smith has been making sandwiches for her boyfriend, who gave her an ultimatum: “You are 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!” Women be making sandwiches for their future ex-husbands with gout.
A year ago, we moved in together to a sleek place in Brooklyn. We’ve met each other’s parents, traveled internationally without strangling each other and successfully hosted many a dinner party.
Things were moving at a natural pace, but I wondered what it would take for him to propose. I’m in my mid-30s, and my parents have been happily married for more than 35 years. I have always valued the commitment and dedication it takes to get married and stay married. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d like to raise a family with someone who feels likewise.
Maybe I needed to show him I could cook to prove that I am wife material. If he wanted 300 sandwiches, I’d give him 300 sandwiches — and I’d blog about it. (Via)
You can follow Smith’s edible exploits here, but I’ll save you some time and post her greatest achievement.
Where were you (when the Sandwich Lady made her boyfriend a Strawberry Shortcake Sandwich)?