In fact, the first time I made him Ramen noodles, (we were meager, still are) he literally asked what the heck I did to his food. Ramen Noodles. That was the beginning of our relationship 8 long years ago.
I had always been scared of cooking. I figured, you play with fire, you get burned, badabing badaboom. Made sense since I knew so very little about heat, meat, knives, or anything cooking related. I had just graduated from dorm life, and was in no hurry to learn about real life. For some reason I thought God would just provide me with food, smh, and He did, for years, but along came John, who made me a mother, and then criticized my Ramen.