I have been thinking for the last few weeks that this nonsense with Chicken Parm had to end. It had been over practically since it began, although I was the last to see it. He was the first person that I had truly strong feelings for after my breakup, but he was my rebound. As much as I wanted it to be more, probably for the wrong reasons, the timing was wrong for him and wrong for me. It didn’t help that he was the worst person to date, in that we didn’t actually date. That was partly my fault; never again will I cook for someone so early on. My chicken parm isn’t that good, but apparently my nurturing instincts are, and we went from hot ‘n’ heavy dating to sexless marriage in no time flat.