Cooking for one.

Getting bored of making sandwiches so I’ve Googled it. Well it seems all ‘cooking for one’ sites are geared towards men, single men, who only eat curry. No matter, all I wanted was a site that could steer me in the direction of something other than toast that requires little cleaning of dishes after the fact. Eating straight from the pot is not below me. It’s a big adjustment to make, going from cooking a nice main meal for me and my man to these weeks (or months) of not having him around and just having to take care of myself and the cat. You know you’re in trouble when the food you’re giving the cat looks better than what you’re eating. Generally I’m not a bad cook, but I’m a cook, not a chef. I cook like a working-mother; I attempt to make healthy food, tasty enough to keep him distracted from the computer, in adequate quantities for my growing man, but nothing that requires hours of preproduction. With only myself to feed however, I become more concerned with the repercussions of my cooking than how it actually tastes. How many things can I cook in one pot? Can I use the same knife I chopped the onions with to eat my dinner? Minimize the dishes, minimize the prep time, and it’s starting to bore me.
The adjustment is always weird when he leaves. And when he comes back. He leaves for work, often with very little notice and without definite dates that he’ll be back. I’m not worried that he won’t come back because the computer he built is still at home with me, but it’s strange going from living with someone who shares a bed with you to not having anyone there at all. When he’s home the flat feels smaller, but cozy, when he’s gone it becomes a huge empty space. A space I have to try and fill. I usually spend the first few weeks with one light on in the entire place trying to come up with ways to feel less alone. I soon realize there’s nothing on tv. A mild depression waves over me. The first things I miss are silly like washing dishes after him, cooking for him, getting annoyed at him for playing computer games all the time. I miss that! Then I start speaking to myself, singing out loud. Then I don’t bother getting dressed after a bath, walk around naked. I don’t bother picking up after myself in the bedroom for week (while usually I’m picking up for both of us) and skip washing the floors. I leave the door open when I’m taking a bath and brushing my teeth, I don’t make the bed. I get into a way of living that exploits the perks of being by myself. In short I start enjoying being alone again. Then he comes home. It’s great, but it takes me a week or two to remember that I really shouldn’t burp out loud anymore and I get a fright when I walk into a room and someone is there. I have to share the affections of our cat with someone else, and start cooking real meals again.
It feels a bit like split personality or living a double life. He’s either there all the time, at home, or not there at all and only contactable electronically when our time zones happen to converge on a convenient time for us both to communicate. It’s schizo. It’s bizarre. It’s all and nothing. It takes getting used to, but for now, it’s life and I can’t wait for him to come back home. I can’t wait to be inconvenienced by him, to wash up after him and even be ignored by him when he’s playing games online. I can’t wait to work all day and then go home and cook a proper meal. This I can’t wait for! I must be in love or something.