Broccoli Again

I "met" my last girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I was doing a classroom observation. I made a quick exit at the end of class, as she was quickly surrounded by needy students.

Later, in my box was a homemade watercolored Valentine, featuring a roughly heart-shaped bouquet of broccoli. This anti-Valentine was distributed to everyone in the department, so I thought nothing of it until I noticed the personalized message on the back--something about leaving the classroom too soon and missing out on a kiss. I was intrigued but not convinced. A couple weeks later we were dating. The following Valentine's day, I think we were both working. I recall nothing even vaguely romantic about it.

Do I have to mention that by the next February 14th we were broken up? I didn't think so. The beginning of our week-or-so break-up process occurred over Chinese food--an argument about money.

I'm reminded of the Maggie Nelson poem, "A Misunderstanding."
I too intend to buy "as much beer as five dollars will buy and drink it right here on the sofa."

The one thing I've shared with all my former lovers is a consuming passion for food. And cooking. And eating. Mostly eating.