When Ed and I first started dating, I cooked a lot for him. I like cooking, he likes eating, so it made sense. I was very poor then, so I cooked a lot of simple meals: eggs. A lot of eggs. Fancy eggs and breakfasts for dinner, but always eggs. Ed used to say my eggs tasted like love, and that was cute and sweet and d’awwww.
Years passed and I still cook a lot, but it’s less “trying to get him naked via food” and more “well, we gotta eat”. Lately though, Ed’s taken to making breakfast for both of us on weekends – fancy scrambles with eggs and tasty things and a heaping side of salsa and too much pepper, just the way I like it. It’s awesome and I feel very spoiled, and .. it tastes like love. I totally get it. Eggs = love.