The cook

Her: "I cook and clean for you and that's how I show you how much I love you."

Him: "Okay. So when you cook for me you put in a lot of effort. You get the right ingredients, follow the recipe and everything is delicious. I come to you and tell you that the food looks great and smells amazing. You, my dear, are the best cook ever. Then we sit down and I don't eat what you cooked. I'll give any excuse but in the end I don't eat what you cooked for me. Now you find this strange. You think I must not like the food. Or else I'm lying. Or else I'm eating with someone else. But no. I just don't want to eat it I tell you. 'It must be me', you think. 'Maybe I'm not as good a cook as I thought'. But everyone else says your food looks great and if they were in my shoes they would eat everyday.
Once a month you make me Mac and Cheese and I devour it. So fucking good I say. Fucking best ever. But if you try to make the Mac and Cheese a day later or in the morning I say: 'I can't eat that now. It's the wrong time. Why does everything have to be about food with you?!'
If you cooked for me everyday and I didn't eat it, wouldn't you be sad, confused and rejected?"

Her: "Yes."

Him: "Well that's how I feel when I care for you, work hard and throw every bit of charm I have at you..."

Her: "I love all of that. I love you and I want you!"

Me: "You say that dear, but you're not eating."