I always have boyfriends who feed me, who love showing their love by providing food. Providers. Feeders. And they love it.

I am providing in different ways.

I am good company.


When I have boyfriends who like to cook, it is automatically presumed I do the dishes. I don’t like doing the cleaning. Cooking is the fun part — although I don’t enjoy the daily routine of it.

I cannot think food when just eaten.

It bothers me.

I only start thinking food when I get hungry. And then it’s the worse time to go food hunting because I get grumpy. My metabolism or whatever it is runs aground and I can’t think.

basically, I cannot THINK FOOD!

Therefore everything around it becomes a chore: the THINKING about what to eat, the PLANNING about how to forage for ingredients and the SYSTEMATIC preparation. So, really, at no point in the process am I inspired.

I am either bothered or grumpy. Or not fussed.

I cook only sometimes, for glory: Christmas, Easter and elaborate snackies. Now, that is fun.

So if someone else enjoys the daily cooking and is happy to make it nice for me, I am grateful but why do I have to do the dishes? Is it my fault they love the after breakfast elaborating, shopping, chopping, cooking activity?

For people who adore that activity it is all about INSPIRATION and MEDITATION

Their eyes are aglow talking about their elaborate culinary plans, I noticed. They are on a mission, a raptured religious experience.

The Mission.

Da dadada da da … da dadada da

And I play the excited part of a devotee … because it is kinda expected.

The audience is needed. But I couldn’t care less.

Religion needs an audience.

I have been known to eat instant couscous with cold sweetcorn just to get out of all that bullshit … and the cleaning.

For foodies that would be sacrilege. Will I burn in culinary hell? Tortured by the anti-Christ? Gordon Ramsey?

Well, my repentance comes in the form of having to do the cleaning part.

50 Fairy liquid Ave Marias.

It’s kinda hell but I can briefly relax into it … I have learnt to do so. Lip service. Thank Heavens for Dishwashers, however, even they are annoying.

It’s cleaning in general.

People who love cooking are a messy lot. Not sure if that’s just a guy thing but it is true. Chopped onions and coriander all over the floor. What the fuck are all the pots and pans for … It’s fucking more cleaning than fucking necessary.

So I literally pay for my food.

Like in a restaurant.

But at least there I eat exactly what I choose to and no dishes.

I WANT TO EAT OUT. All the time. It would be my greatest luxury. Eat well and exactly what I want. You really truly want to show me your love, don’t cook for me but take me out tonight!

When having cooking boyfriends, I have to eat what they feel inspired to cook. Sure, they ask me in the morning … what would you like for dinner, babe, but remember? I CAN’T THINK! So, literally nothing comes to mind.

And do not attempt to ask me what I would like to eat when I’m already hungry!!! I might just have your head there and then.

So I really have no choice but to praise and feign ecstasy … and do the dishes while they sit and revel in their food smugness and ego-glory.

I was supposed to be the one to cook for glory!! But instead I descend into food slavery.

So who condemns me? Where is my religious experience?

Who made food a religion anyway?

It literally has become that!!! Our lives evolve around it … and churches are empty.

Supermarkets are vast shiny temples dedicated to the glorification of food, glorious food.

Chefs are crazed pastors delivering televised sermons

Pastas delivering salmons.

Pasta with liver and salmon

Now that is inspired.

Cooking books are bibles. With sinful photos.

Daily dietary worship.

Oh, yeah, and then there are the fundamentalists … devoted to the worship of Diet Deities. Collaborating with religious exercise extremism.

All food bullies.

Deliveroo us from all evil.

Saints and Sinners. Obesity is condemnation. Exercise is purification.

You know what? You can all just take your whey powder protein bars and shove them up your irrigated asses.

I am done with all of that. I was brain washed for so long. Now I don’t give a fuck about food unless it matters. And then I thoroughly enjoy it. I want to worship who I feel like, in the moment.

Be a consciously consuming anti-atheist, worshipping ALL FOOD GODS when it pleases me. And food Devils for that matter.

And fuck, I refuse to be punished for it.

I won’t be bullied anymore.

No more lip service.

I’d rather not be cooked for.

The power and the glory is all mine.


AMSTERDAM DIARIES 2020+ Daily Philosopher Notes — Alchemy of Words. Creative Direction & Life Concept Creator