An Unexpected Question

A few weeks ago, Jordan and I were making dinner plans. I had heard about this recipe from a few friends who claimed it was easy, fairly cheap, and delectable. So we decided to give it a try. Pork loin? Check. Carrots? Check. Parsnips? I'd never eaten or bought one before, but check. Asparagus? Not called for in the recipe but sooooo delicious. Check.

All these veggies and seasonings were fine with me. I am not a picky eater. I grew up with parents who forced us to eat whatever they cooked no matter what. If we didn't like it, tough luck. To a young child, this was an extreme form of torture, but now I very much appreciate not being one of those people. You know--those people with all the special requests.

Jordan, however, was a picky eater. I say was because, through no insistence of mine (I promise), he has tried and liked more foods in the past nine months than he ever planned on. So I don't really consider him picky anymore.

A few examples: Lettuce (on tacos and as a salad). Raw carrots. Bananas. Strawberries. Cantaloupe. Sour cream. Green peppers. Grilled onions. Italian dressing. Just to name a few.

Which brings me to the delicious dinner, where we added parsnips and asparagus to his list of never-before-tasted-but-very-much-enjoyed foods. We chopped and seasoned and roasted and grilled...and man, was it good. But that's besides the point.

The next day, we drove to Hobby Lobby to pick up some yarn for my next project. I was, as usual, riding in the passenger seat of my Oklahoma boy's Dodge Ram. He was, as usual, looking oh so cute in a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and aviators. We were sitting quietly in the cab, listening to a slow country song. I looked to my left and smiled at him. He grabbed my hand, and the sharp crease of his smile pushed his right dimple out. Good lord that boy has a mighty fine smile.

Then he said, ever so softly with his heart-fluttering accent, "Hey, can I ask ya a question?"

Yes, of course. Anything.

"Sure," I said.

This is going to be so good, I thought. He's going to ask me something cute about what date I want him to take me on next or tell me how much he likes me.

"Well," he continued, "I just have to know. When is my pee ever going to stop smelling like asparagus?"

That was the moment I finally realized how different boys and girls are.

I mean, obviously I knew this (I have two brothers after all), but somewhere deep inside I still held out hope that this boy was more mature, more cultured, more sensitive than to ever ask me, his girlfriend of all people, to tell him when his pee was going to stop smelling like asparagus. But my hopes were dashed to the ground at the mention of that (apparently) smelly vegetable.

"Gross!" I pulled my hand away and glared at him. "Why on earth would you think to ask me that question? I thought you were going to say something cute."

"Haha." He was laughing? The jerk was enjoying this. "I thought you might be thinking that. But, seriously, my pee smells! I'm not eating asparagus anymore."

"But it tasted good, right? I mean, you said you liked it!" I couldn't believe he has just given me such a lame excuse.

"Well...yeah! But I didn't know it was going to smell."

So that's it, then, I thought. At least I know what sort of crazy I'm dealing with. It's hard enough to get him to try new foods. Now he has another sense to worry about besides taste.

Lesson Learned: When dealing with boys, always be prepared for an unexpected question.