Nothing is hotter than a man who cooks (or grills).
(This was originally written a year ago for my creative writing class. Enjoy!)
It is a fact of life that for every hot guy a girl meets, there are ten guys who are even hotter—and unavailable. A ring signifies marriage. A simpering fiancée/girlfriend clinging to his arm is an automatic turnoff. He may not even be interested in girls.
But . . . what if the boy of interest is apparently single, straight, and completely uninterested? What is holding him back from dating the cutest girl around? Could it be the love of another girl?
Maybe it’s the love of his grill.
Like any doting boyfriend, he has one special night set aside each week to bond with his lover. For him, Tuesday Night is Burger Night.
Or Steak Night. Or Rib Night. Or Whatever-meat-strikes-his-fancy Night. But without fail, every Tuesday he is out there forging a bond with his propane beauty. It can be 90 degrees with the sun beating down on his balding head and he will still flip his burgers in confidence. He even cooks in the rain! He’s like a postman—come rain or sleet or snow, he’ll always grill.
But, similar to a relationship with an actual human being, his life isn’t all happiness and meat.
No, a distraction—be it a phone call or prepping sauce—can destroy his precious creations and his relationship with the grill. He goes inside for several minutes while the grill is happily smoking away. Ten minutes later, he bolts outside and throws open the grill lid. Copious amounts of dark gray smoke pour from grill as he coughs and swats furiously at the smoke with his silver spatula. Peering through the smoke, the anxious look he once possessed turns into one of defeat. The distraction proves fatal to the bond. Betrayed by his lover. Burnt.
For every piece of chicken that he burns to a crisp, he cooks ten burgers to perfection. Juicy. Succulent. Cheese perfectly melted. The rapport between man and grill at its finest. He slides his perfect burgers onto a serving dish and retreats inside to enjoy them. Alone.
A grill only rusts if it’s left out in the rain for too long, it doesn’t melt like the Wicked Witch of the West (and most girls). A grill doesn’t care how good of a father its man is—actually, a grill doesn’t care about anything. A grill is simply a means through which a man can satisfy his craving for flesh without breaking the Honor Code.
You have to admit, it’s hard for a lady to compete with a grill.
After all, the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
This is fabulous!