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I'm such a gastrosexual that an ex wrote a poem about it. It's not very flattering, I suppose, and it's in an odd reverse-chronological order on a page with a bunch of stuff that's most definitely not about me, but I'll share--scroll down to the Tuesday, November 09, entry to start.
Gastrosexuals can be male or female but the common denominator is their love of food. We found that cooking for this new generation isn't simply a matter of refuelling. For them it's an enjoyable experience and something to be relished - they cook for pleasure, praise and potential seduction.
Gah, food isn't sexual, it's sensual. I like enjoying food and knowing how to cook because I have to eat; I can eat crap and feel like shit or take pleasure in delicious food that makes me feel good. That I get to share my pleasure with people I care about, and receive praise for it, is just gravy. Stupid Daily Mail.
I used to be a guitarosexual. Sitting and playing and singing with a soulful look in my eyes trying to lure them in. A few came. But once you're out of material, you have to move onto other things, and that was the rub to that approach.
I am the cook in the family and when my wife's sister, who also cooks a lot, was here visiting us, we cooked a couple meals together, and, while of course nothing would ever ever happen, there WAS sort of a sexual vibe between us in the kitchen, and sort of an afterglowy feeling when we got done. It was weird.
My fiance cooks because if he didn't, we'd be eating mac and cheese or frozen pizza. He's gotten pretty damned good at it and I get tons of jealous comments from female friends. If I can just get him to do laundry, I'd have the perfect male specimen.
i need to find someone who likes to dust. Generally, the other is usually good about changing sheets and taking out garbage, guys don't mind much.
People who want to cook but not clean and use every container and tool are just irritating. Any real cook knows how to clean as they go, but i don't mind dishes as much as some people.
i'm just an o'sexual.
Kind of piratey or o'clocky, or like cancer o' the colon.
On my first date with my other half, I showed up at her place with a meal all prepped in baggies and ready to be assembled on the stove.
When she told her best friend, her friend said, "no. that did not happen. that's impossible."
What I didn't know then, is that she is obsessive about keeping the kitchen clean, so after our romantic meal, I had to cool my heals in the living room for an hour while she ran the stove burners and everything else through the dishwasher.