Chapter 15: How I Burnt Rice and Almost Burnt Down Love
After the job interview humiliation, I decided maybe career wasn't my thing.
Maybe love was.
So when Esi—the pretty girl from choir—said she loved "a man who could cook,"
I saw opportunity.
I lied confidently:
> "Cooking? It's my passion! I make magic in the kitchen!"
(Meanwhile, my "cooking" experience was boiling noodles and screaming when the water overflowed.)
Anyway, I invited her over.
I decided to make the safest dish: rice and stew.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
First, I put the rice on fire...
...and immediately forgot about it because I was practicing how to say "welcome" in a deep romantic voice.
By the time I smelled the burning, it was too late.
The pot looked like a scene from Game of Thrones.
Black. Smoky. Depressing.
Panicking, I opened the window—and triggered the smoke alarm.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The neighbors came rushing.
Someone shouted,
> "Fire! Fire! Save the children!"
Esi was standing there, holding her handbag tightly like she regretted every decision that brought her here.
Trying to save face, I offered her water.
I poured it shakily...
...and spilled it all over her phone.
Perfect.
As she left the house (without tasting a single grain of rice), she said:
> "Kelvin... you're... you're really unique."
Unique.
That's woman-speak for "God forbid."