No Soup For Me

After a fun filled weekend with family and friends, I find myself continuing on with the head cold that started earlier in the week. While relaxing and reading the humongous September Issue of Vogue, my phone beeped with a text message. It was the boy that I had been on a few dates with wanting to know how my weekend had been and if I wanted to get together for dinner. Making my molehill of a cold into a mountain I told him that I would be sleeping for the remainder of the day to try to get better. Meanwhile, I just wanted to relax with my enormous magazine and avoid the rainy day outside.

Not even close to a minute later, he texted back that he makes a mean chicken noodle and I should consider it. He was just trying to be helpful but I chose to read into it the way no normal girl does. I said that I didn't trust his soup and was going to stick to Tylenol PM and herbal remedies to help myself. When in doubt just insult his cooking abilities and his aptitude for helping a sick person - that will drive him away. Or so I hoped. He responded with a get well wish and an offer for dinner later in the week. Maybe a dinner is in order. I mean, he has stuck it out this long even with me making fun of him and insulting his culinary expertise. Maybe I will think of a few more cheap shots before the appetizer arrives.