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The one time I can remember being really embarrassed by food was when I offered to cook a roast for the chap I was seeing/ shagging on & off. He earned about 4x more than me, but lived on takeaways. I'd already seen his kitchen and although it was spotlessly clean, it was seriously under-equipped for real cooking. So I bought the whole menu from Icceland (the local frozen food store). They were doing a deal on a joint of meat, yorkshires, potatoes, veg & a dessert. It worked a treat - all it needed was timing.
Big dinner, bloated bellies, slow and tender sex. Until... UNTIL... I 'fessed up to a work colleague while telling of my wonderful weekend. She was horrified. I went from cloud 9 to an inch high. ICELAND? How tacky!
But all's well that ends well. I decide that she was just a fucking bitch, but I dated that guy for 2 years.
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