Watch It

A short story about love and being different. Inspired by cooking dinner.

I knew he was different from the very beginning. At the time, I couldn’t pinpoint why this was, but I’ve come to learn that he has an interesting way of looking at the world. He challenges common knowledge. Not in that angsty-teenager way though; he just looks at things and asks, “why does it have to be that way?”

He took me out on a fun first date, and I remember remarking over dinner how nice it was to do something other than the normal dinner and a movie thing.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“It’s just kind of a boring date,” I began, “I mean, it’s fine when you’re seeing somebody, but just doesn’t make a good early date.”

“I think that’s just because they’re expected to be dull.”

The following weekend, he picks me up for dinner and a movie. He told me that if I don’t expect it to be dull, it wouldn’t be. And he was right – that was one of the best dates I’d had in a long time. And for no particular reason. It was just fun.

As we went on more dates, I became more and more aware of things like this. There was the time we started our meal off with a hot fudge sundae, and ended with potato wedges. We had white wine with steak once, and red wine with fish. We went to an opera, wearing jeans and t-shirts. And we put on our fanciest outfits for a day at the ballpark.

But the thing that really hammered it home for me was the day he had me over to his place for a home-cooked dinner.

After preparing some vegetables, he pulled out a pot, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove. He then turned back to me, and jerked his head, beckoning me over. He placed his arm around my waist, and we stood there, staring at the pot of water.

“You know,” I said, leaning seductively toward him, “a watched pot never boils.”

“Is that so?” he responds. He then leans in toward me and whispers in my ear, “watch it.”

And as we stood there watching, the pot boiled. And he turns to look at me again, silently, but with a soft smile on his face. And that’s when I realized he wasn’t just different – he was special.

Word Count: 394