Boiling Point

Story Sent in by Della:

When I was in college, I met John at a football game. He was a good-looking economics major, and we had a good rapport. Our first date was out, and it went well. For our second date, I offered to cook him dinner in my apartment.

I decided to steam vegetables with pasta and make eggplant Parmesan. It was a tried and true recipe that I had made plenty of times before. John came over early and he sat in my kitchen and we spoke while I cooked.

"What are you doing?" he asked me during one point in the process.

I replied, "I'm dipping the eggplant slices in batter."

He gave me a long stare and asked, "Are you sure you're doing it right?"

"Yes."

He frowned at me as I continued with the process. He then walked up to the stove and looked inside the pot of water that I had going for the pasta. It had been going for a few minutes and I hadn't yet added the pasta, itself.

John removed the pot from the stove and poured the water down the sink.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, "That was on there for the pasta."

He shook his head as if I was a three-year-old and said, "There's a much faster way to do it."

"To boil water?" I asked.

He said, "Yeah. Let me show you."

He picked up a plastic mixing bowl, filled it with water, and slipped it into a nearby microwave. He set it for 20 minutes and started it up.

"Are you serious?" I asked him, "Boiling in a microwave takes forever, plus isn't it dangerous?"

He said, "I do it this way all the time. You should do it this way." He sat back down at the table.

I canceled the microwave timer and took the water out. I said, "I promise that I've got this. Just relax and I'll have dinner ready in just a bit."

He didn't say anything for a minute or so, and he watched me place a pot of water back onto the stove. I turned back to the eggplant. He then stood up and picked up the pot of water a second time.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, blocking him from the sink.

He tried to sidle past me, but I blocked him each way. He then poured the water all over the floor.

"What the hell?" I yelled.

He calmly set the pot back onto the stove and said, "You're wasting time doing it your way. If you're going to be difficult about it, then I'll get my dinner someplace else, and in half the time."

I searched for a good response, but the best one I thought of was also the first one, and that was, "Get out!"

Without another word, he turned and left the apartment. I called up some friends, they brought over some food, and we had a delicious, if late, home-cooked meal. As for John, whenever I encountered him in person after that, we didn't exchange words. I'm sure he'll make his future wife extra happy, especially if he leaves the house for some fast food whenever she cooks.