Sleeping on the Bathroom Floor

A few weeks ago, I bought a new uncookbook, and to my loyal readers it should come as no surprise that it made me cry--or that it's the second raw uncookbook to do so, as I've demonstrated time and time again what a sensitive creature I can be. The tears actually made a bit more sense this time around because this culinary project was the lovechild of an attractive, intelligent foodie pairing. A classic tale of taster meets chef. They fall in love, move in together, enter veggie paradise hand-in-hand, open a restaurant, and publish the recipes they likely spoonfed each other in the buff.

Instructions for deliciousness are interspersed with adorable episodes between the lovers, delightful stories that suggest a deeply authentic, even karmic, bond. You should have seen me on the lounge chair, in a green bikini and huge black hat; you would have thought I was poring over some juicy Danielle Steel.

No, no, no. This was the story of a handsome couple who found their life's work in each other. I particularly appreciated the account of the woman's drinking too many sake-tinis and having to spend the night on her bathroom floor. Completely tossed and therefore fearful she'd make a mess of her bed, she lay by the toilet and passed out. In the morning, to her surprise, her beloved was curled up beside her. He obviously couldn't bear any sort of distance, even for a few hours. Oh, vomit is nothing in the face of love! How precious!

It reminded me of "Cocoon," when Bjork wakes up with her lover "still inside" her. Um, wow. I wonder if that really happened. I mean literally. It sounds incredibly romantic, and I'm a sucker for that shet. And I know. I always relate everything to Bjork. I'm a fan.

Heavens yes. That kind of love.

Thus the question arose: "Have I ever been the recipient of such thorough adoration?"

I confronted my ex later that week. "You never loved me that much. You never would have spent the night on the bathroom floor with me. You would have said the tile was too cold or the situation was too unsanitary. Actually, you wouldn't even have considered it in the first place." He didn't have a comeback, really, except to say, "If that's how you feel..."

It was kind of emo, which I'm not proud of, but sometimes I like testing the waters.

A few nights later, curiosity took hold, and I had to know how the couple was faring, and, after a bit of research, I discovered that the poopy chef from hell had brought another woman to their book release party. Getting through that night must have taken many more sake-tinis than ever before. In the wake of cheffy's remarkably bad move, the restaurant's investors sided with jilted taster woman, who, after a rough patch, is doing great. She has a new boyfriend, and her restaurant, still thriving, was recently voted the #1 raw restaurant in the world. Yay for resilience!

Yeah, I do want to wake up in an odd place next to someone who can't stand being ten feet away from my body, perhaps with his stuff still inside me when the sun comes out, but, like, it has to be real. I don't understand how one can go from you-can-puke-on-me seeming love to here's-the-new-girl-I'm-banging seeming hate within such a short period of time. That's totally foreign to me, and I'd like to keep it that way. As you know, I'm too sensitive for that.