I always find that once in a while one has to enjoy the fruits of ones labor and indulge. So the end of this week saw me discussing various cuts of beef with the butcher at Pusateris in Yorkville. My weakness has, and will always be a good Delmonico steak (more commonly known as rib-eye steak). Being one to share meals I decided to call a close friend of mine to see if she would join me for dinner. One must never eat steak alone. Fifty-five dollars later I walked out clutching my two well-marbled aged steaks with a smile. All the way home I couldn’t help but feel proud, albeit a little nervous, that I would impress my friend as I had never cooked for her before. I recalled her complaining about how hard it was to find a man to spoil her rotten with good cooking, amongst other things. In my mind I represented the perfect storm in any woman’s world – well-mannered and educated male, dare I say, is a good cook. Or so I thought.
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My first clue that this would not be such a great evening should have been when she insisted that she wanted her steak “well-done”. To this day I have never encountered a woman who will accept anything less than a cremated steak. Plain logic should tell you that the more the steak is cooked the less juices there are in it. People are often put off that a rare steak contains lots of blood. Anyway I digress. As a host it is my responsibility to ensure that needs of my guests are met and so I proceeded to make the steak as she liked it. Second and third hints of trouble, she arrived an hour late… empty-handed. Is it not a common courtesy to bring a small gift or bottle of wine or flowers to a dinner party let alone be on time?
Dinner was served completed with crisp linen napkins and the good china and that’s when the whole evening went south. Now I could go on about how she wielded her knife with the gusto of a ninja and hacked right through the middle of this perfect piece of meat but I won’t. I can still see a chunk of meat hanging on for dear life to her fork as she proceeded to hold upright and take huge bites out of it in a manner reminiscent of the way a child would eat a toasted marshmallow. Forget savoring the flavors of the well marinated steak, how about closing your mouth while chewing? The last time I had seen such atrocious eating habits was on a wildlife TV program that showed hyenas eating a rotten buffalo carcass. Heck I was even more appalled than the time a date once complained about how the sushi was not cooked… to the waitress! So as I sat there watching this spectacle unfold I could help but wonder why it is that women seem to demand certain standards from men of which they seem to conveniently excuse themselves. Eventually I couldn’t help but blurt out of frustration “Why the hell would you want a man who can cook when you eat like a pig and can’t even appreciate the effort I put into making the meal”?
Now you may think I’m being a little uptight about a piece of meat but is it too much to ask for good table manners to complement a man’s cooking efforts? And this goes beyond mere steaks; many a time when I was dating I would have women share how they wanted a guy with this or that and yet they themselves did not have the same that or this. I remember one girl who once said she wouldn’t date me because I wasn’t driving at the time. When I asked her if she had a car her response was “…no but it is different for me because I am a woman” (sic). I have owned cars in the past but now do not drive out of choice. I’d rather spend my hour commute downtown relaxing/working and not stuck on the DVP only to pay $20 a day in parking. Plus it is good for the environment although I have to admit I do miss my Caddy.
How many times as a woman have you gravitated towards the guy with the champagne bottles in the club when in your mind you are wondering where to get cab fare to go home? Is the only language you speak made up of a swear word every 3 words? Do you demand that your man have a place of his own because you can’t invite him back to the apartment you share with 3 other people? A dorm room does not count as your own place by the way. Once in a while it is nice to get picked up to go to the movies and make you breakfast in bed at your own place. But being the simple imperfect guy that I am all I want is a woman that knows the Red Lobster is not fine dining, and more importantly that there is a difference between Hamburger Helper and a Delmonico steak.
I do appreciate that we all want to, as Beyonce puts it, ‘upgrade our life situations’ but I really need to know: ladies, are your standards (social skills, career ambitions, educational goals etc.) really up those that you demand of men?
