TV Dinner

Story Sent in by Henry:

Denise and I had been seeing each other for a few weeks when I invited her over to my apartment. I offered to make her dinner, and she really seemed to like the idea. She offered to bake bread, a salad, dessert, anything at all. I told her to surprise me, and that of course, the most important thing to bring was an appetite.

She showed up with a store-bought, pre-made pie crust with nothing in it. "It's an invisible pie," she offered, then said, "We can break it up and put it over ice cream." Neither of us had any ice cream handy, but I guessed that she had forgotten to make something and had grabbed it last minute. Oh well. I was grateful for the effort.

She then parked herself on my sofa and turned on the television. I was in the kitchen, making soup and chicken. The fact that she didn't come in to talk to me was a bit strange, but I guess it wasn't necessarily expected. Still, we were dating, and I had hoped to spend at least most of the time at my place together.

I walked into the living room and asked her, "Want to come in the kitchen?"

She didn't look away from the TV, but instead hugged a pillow to herself and said, "No thanks."

Maybe she was nervous. I had a bad feeling, but there would be time to think about that later. I had dinner to prepare. I returned to the kitchen and finished it up.

"Dinner's ready!" I told her, hoping that we could finally talk and enjoy each other's company.

"Great," she replied, "You can bring it in here."

"Let's eat in the dining room," I said.

"I'm watching this," she said, pointing to the TV, "You can bring it in here."

I suggested, "We can watch some TV or a movie after dinner. I kind of wanted to talk and spend some time together. Away from the TV."

She groaned as if I had told her that I needed her to cross a parkway full of rush hour traffic. She stood up, picked up the remote, and I was satisfied enough to turn back towards the table I had prepared.

Instead, she pumped up the TV's volume and then followed me inside. I was losing patience and so I turned around, walked past her, and turned the TV off, myself.

"How am I supposed to hear it, now?" she asked.

I replied, "We can have dinner without it."

"I can't," she said, "I want to watch that show."

"I made us dinner."

"I brought us pie!"

"And I'm very pleased with your efforts on that. Can we have dinner now, please?"

She gave me a funny look and repeated, "You're pleased with my efforts? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I said, "It was nice of you to bring it. Please, let's sit down and–"

"Oh, it was nice of me to bring it? You ungrateful prick. I didn't have to bring anything!"

I tried a different tactic and asked her, "Do you want dinner or not?"

She said, "I'm not so sure if I do, anymore, now that I've seen your attitude."

I nodded, grabbed her pie crust, and opened my apartment door. I was tired of her, and I was going to have a pleasant dinner with or without her. I said, "Then leave. Get out."

Without a word, she grabbed the crust from me and stomped out. I closed the door behind her and had a delicious, homemade dinner all to myself. True, I was alone, but I'm pretty sure that I was better off for it.