My bologna has a first name….

I cook dinner (almost) every night. It’s not because I am a subservient wife.  I have three children who demand to eat three meals a day.  I know, who do they think they are? Some days we grab take-out and my husband is left to fend for himself when he gets home from work.  Then, there are days when I just don’t feel like cooking and they eat sandwiches.  Bottom line, my husband does not expect a hot meal on the table when he gets home at night.  He is grateful when I do cook. (As he should be) When I read a story about a woman in New York who was making her boyfriend sandwiches to earn an engagement ring, I nearly spit out my Twinkie.  (How the hell did we live without those for so long?)

As the story goes, Page Six reporter, Stephanie Smith’s boyfriend made a snide comment that she should’ve made him a sandwich when she woke up. (They don’t have any kids so it was probably after noon. Remember what that feels like? Yeah, me neither.)  “Sandwiches are love,” he says. So, she made him one.

As he finished that last bite, he made an unexpected declaration of how much he loved me and that sandwich: “Honey, you’re 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!”  I paused.  Was our happily ever after as simple as making him a few sandwiches?”

First of all,  I wouldn’t have made the first sandwich.  In fact, he probably wouldn’t have eaten the rest of the day. Miss Smith got cooking and started a blog documenting each and every sandwich she created.  (I must admit, the sandwiches look delicious)  The article continues:

Ten sandwiches or so in, I did the math. Three sandwiches a week, times four weeks a month, times 12 months a year, meant I wouldn’t be done until I was deep into my 30s. How would I finish 300 sandwiches in time for us to get engaged, married and have babies before I exited my childbearing years?  My mother was the voice of reason. “Relationships are a marathon, not a sprint,” she said. “Take it one sandwich at a time.”

My Mom would have said, “Tell him to make his own damn sandwich.”  You need to throw him out with the week old salami.  Did Beyonce teach us nothing?  If he likes it he should have put a ring on it.  You shouldn’t have to earn a diamond.  A day after this article ran in the paper women wearing Birkenstock’s and carrying portraits of Susan B. Anthony stormed delis across the country in protest.   Miss Smith recanted.  She now claims it was just a joke.  Talk about a poker face.  She just made sandwich #177.    My bologna has a first name…..