Adrienne Writes

I cook for my husband. I cook for him nearly everyday. I cook for myself. I cook for myself nearly everyday. I cooked for my father. I cooked for my family. I cook for my friends when they come over. And I would cook for my mother if she ever let me.. But she’s so much a better cook than me that she’s always telling me to go sit down somewhere. Or here, peel this potato.

All this to say, I’m tired of all this mess about why women like me should NOT be cooking for their man.

Puh-leeze.

But let’s back up for a moment…

I’ve been married now for a little over a year. When I talk to friends or acquaintances, it’s usually on the phone, and I’m usually cooking. Pop an ear bud in and get to chopping, you know?

So lots of people know that I cook. But from the moment I got married, the comments about cooking took a nefarious turn. “What is HE cooking for you?” “What does HE do around the house?” And I’m like, “Whoa Nelly. Why is the hubby coming into this conversation? We were just talking about Gray’s Anatomy!!”

This has happened with so much frequency that I now have the urge to write about it. First, I think that people are way out of line to even question what happens in a marriage – especially when what happens in marriage is not discussed with them. Second, I think that women who have anything negative to say about a married woman cooking for her man need to just be quiet.

Now, if you choose to eat out everyday, that’s your business. I certainly don’t chastise and say “why don’t you cook more, you bad woman you?”

These women who are hating on women who cook need to either learn to boil some rice for themselves or stop thinking so hard about other people’s relationships. Or maybe they need to go eat something.

Some people cook because they like it. Some cook because they’re good at it. Some cook because they’re hungry. Some cook because they’re both broke and hungry, and it’s always cheaper to eat healthy and cheap when you eat in.

And if you’re going to cook anyway, what’s wrong with cooking an extra plate or two or three?

What I don’t get is why single women feel the need to go there with you. When I was cooking for this same man, and I was unmarried, I never heard a peep from the feminists. The minute I got the ring? Then came the lectures – most of it from serially single women, mind you – : don’t be his slave, don’t clean up after him, don’t merge your money, don’t get married without a prenup, don’t do this, don’t do that.

All kinds of unsolicited advice came from people who couldn’t sustain a relationship with their own parents, let alone a boyfriend. It was as if my engagement made me a public spectacle and these people thought that they had a say-so in my nuptials. To top it off, none of the singles had advice about what TO do with your husband.

And then there’s the random anti-marriage-cooking people you meet at conferences or at networking events or at work. They see my hand, ask how long I’ve been married. I answer and then they go into a long lament about how women are slaves, all marriages end in divorce and they prefer being single because of blah blah blah. At that point, I usually find a reason to go get another cup of coffee or I suddenly have an important call to take.

Why do so many people come from such a negative place?

Ah, but as RuPaul told me last week: “What anything thinks of you is none of your business.”

I’m taking his comment to heart.

But I do think that cooking, like reading, is fundamental. Just like every woman should know how to change her own tire and check the oil levels in her car; every woman should know how to cook one good meal. It doesn’t have to be for a man. It should be for yourself. For your children. For your parents. Or hell, for the homeless man outside who would give his left foot for a chance to boil and eat some fresh rice.

Every time my husband fills his plate a second, or third time, my heart just goes pitty pat. He’s eating something that I MADE. He likes it. He likes it so much that there are rarely leftovers.

Then he always says, “Baby, that was the best meal I’ve had all year.”

It’s probably not true, but he says it anyway. Actually, the fact that he cleans his plate is enough of a plus for me.

Sustenance people. Gotta eat.

p.s. The hubby has just now chimed in, 10 minutes after I posted. He says he doesn’t know why women want to take score on things like cooking for their man. He figures that women who don’t cook, and also got negative commentary, must be “amazed” by the selflessness of women who do cook. And, for the record, he does cook (and he does a bunch o other stuff, none of which is anybody’s business. ) In the end, we deliberately chose each other, which is a good thing because I’d be mad as hell if he didn’t eat my spaghetti!