I'm so glad that Fiance can cook.

So, it was previously established a long time ago that I can not cook. Maybe it was from when I was 12 and I set my aunt's microwave on fire because no one ever told me that aluminum foil doesn't go in the microwave, or maybe it's because I can burn water. Macaroni and cheese, tater tots, chicken nuggets, and porcupine meatballs are about the only things I can cook, not including things I can just toss in the microwave (without aluminum foil). I can bake like no one's business, but cooking? Not so much.

Thankfully, Fiance is skilled at cooking. I mean, he makes AWESOME food, seriously. This is good, because that means Little Miss and I won't starve and bad, because he 1) cooks almost everything with gravy, and 2) I feel like I've gained five pounds after eating.

Take tonight for instance.

He'd been bugging me to let him make turkey burgers for the past week, and tonight, after Little Miss was put to bathed and put to bed, I told him to go ahead and make them. So, at 10:22 PM, he finally starts to make the turkey burgers. He keeps coming in and asking me questions about spices ("What do you think about rosemary? Should I grind it up?") and cheese ("I'm putting the cheese inside the burger, is that all right?") And I give him my opinion and go back to chatting on Facebook.

Then, I notice moaning coming from the kitchen, and I'm curious, and slightly worried. Just what the hell is he doing in there that requires "Oh God....yes....Mmmm....so good...." So I get up and go into the kitchen, and I find this in the frying pan.

                                                    I had just cleaned the stove top too....

"What do you think? This one's yours!" He beamed. 

That's a one-pound turkey burger filled with cheese and spices. It smelled so good. But it was huge. (This was the smaller one. He ate the bigger one himself). A few minutes later, more moaning comes from the kitchen and I expect to see yet another gargantuan burger, but instead, I see this:

That was my turkey burger smothered in a gravy filled with cilantro and red peppers. We settled down and he waited until I took the first bite, apparently anxious that I would be like "This shit sucks!" and flip the table over or something.

I took a bite. It was good. I took another bite. He smiled like a child who's come home from school with an ashtray made out of their hand print and proceeded to eat. Man vs. Food was on the television in the other room, and apparently that convinced us that we had to eat our entire burger. We were in a competition now, and one that I lost. He finished his burger while I stared at the plate, wanting to eat more but having my stomach go "Please don't." My desire to prove to him that I can eat the burger overwhelmed my desire to not eat, and I finished it, pushing my empty plate at him as if to say, "Yeah, what else you got. I can do it!"

He then pulled out ice cream. I hung my head in shame and admitted defeat. He grinned triumphantly.

I think his whole plan is going to backfire tonight when we go to bed and he wants to do "stuff."

Fiance: "Hey honey..."
Me: *snoring as a result of food coma*
Fiance: "Damn."