Last night I dined with a great group of women. Our host, The Pretty Brit, was my room mate for the year following my break up, and we became close friends in that time.
I didn’t know her well when we moved in together in July of 2010. I wasn’t looking for another friend. I was trying to just keep my head together and had almost no energy for anyone except my closest friends. I spent a lot of evenings in my room, reading and watching movies. I slept a lot. I made no initiative to spend quality time with her to get to know her better. I tried to be invisible, so as not to bring the mood in the flat down.
She gave me the space I needed, but didn’t give up on me. She always invited me to be involved in dinner parties at home or to join her for nights out with friends. She knew I was struggling and crying a lot, and doled out hugs and compassion freely. She also cooked for me and fed me and ran our quirky kitchen well, which was the role I used to fall into and embrace in any living situation. I had no desire at that time to cook for anyone, so I let her take care of me in this way.
Lucky for me, The Pretty Brit is a great cook. She makes homemade sourdough bread from a starter, amazing and authentic Pho, and a kick ass British breakfast. She made this curry dip last Christmas that I still think about. I once watched in horror as she dumped a can of beer and a box of Velveeta over some sizzling bacon, only to taste the most wonderful of all wonderful cheese dips. (And I was a snobby cheese-monger at the time!) In the kitchen she is fearless, and, more importantly, as generous as an Italian grandma, but way hotter than one.
|There was dessert too|
More Food, Less Pain,