Getting her to love you for who you are (as long as you are who you were)

So my lady says to me the other day, “I love you just the way you are.” How sweet, right? Well, hang on, it’s not that simple. Let me give you the history of the conversation …

We had just sat down for a pasta dinner. Now, I love pasta. The more the better, and with loads of beef, sausage and marinara sauce. Except we were about to enjoy some fluffy concoction of penne with shrimp and a lemon wine sauce. Not too shabby, but not my good ol’ spaghetti and meatballs. And I’m not complaining, since this is the first time I’ve been able to slip pasta onto our weekly menu in a month or two. Why, you ask? Because she is not a pasta fan. And I say “not a fan” as in she feels it is one step up from having a dog fart in her face — and this watered down version of pasta is the compromise I make.

Now back to the present. Why does she love me just the way I am? Because I don’t eat pasta very often, and when I do it’s a frou-frou blend of exotic herbs and “complex” wines. Herein lies the problem. That’s not who I am. I want a meatball the size of a football covering a hubcap-size plate of noodles dripping with sweet, sweet marinara. And a beer. Or wine (to drink, not to enhance the tender texture of the noodle).

So, why the confusion between us? Because, in my haste to earn my love’s affection, I took something she said during one of our first dates about how she loves all food “except pasta” to heart. Fast forward a couple years and we’ve had pasta together like twice. It wasn’t such a big deal at first, when our dining together was sporadic. I could knock out a lasagna for dinner and eat it for lunch the rest of the week. But as we eventually started eating more and more meals together, bam, “ah, it’s’a no spaghetti’ah for you” (in your best Italian accent).

Now, for the lesson. Be yourself because, whoever you are, if that’s who she likes, that’s who you’ll have to be if you want her to stick around. So put beer on your cheerios, set up your PlayStation in front of the toilet and pull your own finger — because if you don’t do it now, you’ll never get away with it later.

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