Living with J is like starring in a reality show you never auditioned for, a full culinary detour, and last-minute snack twists that defy any reason or logic. She plans brunch with the precision of a military operation, only to change her mind at the last second. Seriously, as Commander-in-Chief, she’d be unstoppable, mainly because you’d never see her next move coming. It’s like playing chess against a squirrel high on espresso: unpredictable. At this point I’m wondering if she a foodie, or just a food illusionist. Maybe both.
Our brunch adventures are legendary. J approaches brunch like an art form, analyzing every dish, deconstructing flavors, and occasionally sending back perfectly good food because it "lacks depth." One time, she ordered avocado toast, took one bite, and declared it "emotionally distant." I didn't know toast could have commitment issues.
Anyhow, J had been craving pancakes for weeks. I’m taking full-blown Pinterest board dedication levels of craving. So we scoured menus, read reviews, analyzed reviews like Michelin critics, and even debated syrup to-butter ratios like it was an international peace treaty. And by we, I mean, her. I just listen all the options listed. I just sat there nodding along, listening to all the options the way a patient listens to the 47 side effects of a new medication, calm on the outside, dying a little on the inside.
Waffles!? She ordered waffles?
She took one bite, sighed, and said, I should've gotten the pancakes. I resisted the urge to flip the table.
But let’s get back to this particular brunch, the one I was actually trying to talk about before my brain took a scenic detour through "PancakeLand". That particular weekend, we decided on a spot with a view of the Downtown L.A skyline, a place so trendy, even the mimosas wear sunglasses. After our morning routine of breakfast, exercise, and showers, we were ready to go.
And yep, once again, in a classic last-minute twist worthy of a Netflix show “The Change-of-Heart Cartel”. She changed her mind and decided we had to go to a completely different restaurant… just 15 minutes away.
And as we stepped out the door, I noticed J carrying a snack. Not a granola bar or a piece of fruit, but an entire pack of prosciutto and cheese sticks. "Just in case I get hungry on the drive," she said. The drive was just 15 minutes away. Literally, I would be sitting in the restaurant halfway through a pack of prosciutto like a raccoon that got into a trash bin.
Living with J means embracing the unexpected. It's like being on a roller-coaster that serves charcuterie. You never know what's coming next, but you can bet it'll be wrapped in prosciutto. I've learned to expect the unexpected. If she says she wants sushi, we might end up at a taco truck. If she craves Italian, we'll probably have Thai. It's a culinary roulette, and I'm just along for the fun ride, full of unpredictability. It's like dating a gourmet tornado. But despite the chaos, I wouldn't have it any other way. Because in the end, life with J is never boring, and always delicious.
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