I came home to mussel and prawn pasta, the low crooning of Regina Spektor (she's all kinds of rad) and chilled white wine last night. Not just white wine, I might add. The Parlotones white wine. (That Kahn Morbee is a clever singer boy, is he. And if he doesn't watch out, he's sure to catch it from The Pant - strange attraction to rocker men that wear make-up, don't judge.)
And not orchestrated by my own boyfriend, I might add. (Simply because my man dropped the "it's not you, it's me" bomb on me. Over. The. Phone. Bitter? Not so much. Down With Love? Huge. Effing. Style.)
It was Carlos who cooked. So, sure, I've got to chalk the majority of the effort up to the fact that he's probably angling for some lovin' from The BF, my people, his wife. But I'd like to think that the little treat I bestowed upon him was at the back of his mind while he was doing the preparations for last night's meal.
I was in the change room, after my netball match, with a bevy of young girls when I phoned him yesterday afternoon.
Carlos: Sheesh. What's all that noise?
The Pant: Sorry. I'm just in the change room. Got our asses kicked by some school girls tonight.
Carlos: Are they in the change room too?
TP: Yup. That's why it's so noisy.
Carlos: Take pictures! Or video clips.
TP: Shut up you filthy manwhore. Just phoning to check if you've got dinner for The Daughter or if I must stop on the way home.
Carlos: As it would happen, Pant, I'm at the shop right now. I'll get The Daughter some dinner. If you take a photo for me.
TP: I'll pick up dinner, it's okay. Jeepers, you really are a minging shitter.
Carlos: K, fine. Just get them all to scream "Carlos, Carlos, he's our guy."
Easy enough.
They chanted with the (very irritating) choral ring that screams of just having won.
Carlos: I haven't heard that many girls call my name-
TP: Ever?
Carlos: I used to be a machine in my day, I'll have you know.
TP: Yeah. Sure you did.
So last night, Carlos had a smile from ear to ear. And The BF and I had groovy mussel and prawn pasta sauce - All. Over. Our. Faces.
Men: so easy to please.
10000+ - yay!
ReplyDeleteClearly every girl needs a Carlos.
ReplyDelete(And we have a Regina Spektor fan - woohoo!)