Love Is A Lot Like Making French Toast.
As 2017 vanishes and 2018 starts, there are a few little things in life that a lot of people want to get right, namely, LOVE.
I observe a lot of things, I’m a watcher — not a stalker. I’d like to think there is a difference.
So I woke up today and I was hungry, I looked out of the window and I could see the snow falling, which is very silly for this part of England that I live in.
We usually get about 1cm of snow and then the rest that follows is just mush, brown boring mush. When that happens, life around here kind of ends.
Nobody goes out — including myself and even Amazon Prime now aren’t doing the 2 hour delivery until 8pm tonight. I might starve to death.
Going upstairs is such a pain, I just want to stay in bed and binge Netflix.
It’s warm, It’s comfortable and it’s my safe place.
Hunger teaches us a lot of things. Mainly, we will do whatever it takes to fill that feeling.
I’m a guy that can cook — I just don’t really feel like getting creative and that’s where french toast comes in.
It’s the first time in 10 years I’ve made it. What possibly could go wrong?
I mean its simple right?
It’s just bread soaked in a mixture of eggs and milk.
Well my friends let me tell you this. I fucked up big time. I had all of these questions running through my mind, so trivial just for toast.
Did I use the right bread?
White or Brown? Wholewheat or plain?
Are these the right eggs? Are they too big?
Is this milk right? Full cream or low fat?
Do I use olive oil in the pan or maybe some butter?
Did I heat the pan up too much or too little?
I’ve successfully created disorder in my mind — it’s just toast man, what are you doing?
So it begins…
I dropped an egg, I soaked a piece of bread in too long and it fell to pieces and I nuked the second slice I made.
I did however make a really good piece of french toast. It was amazing.
How this all ties together
Love is totally 100% like making french toast. We wake up one day, just wanting something, wanting it and we’re gonna have a good go at it no matter what happens, no matter if we mess it up.
See, there’s no secret to love, we just need to embrace a few dropped eggs, a few nuked slices of toast and poor milk choices.
We get hung up on finding the one and don’t get me wrong, there is someone out there for everyone — even if you can’t make french toast.
We will find that perfect slice. Someone who we can share that tasty goodness with. Keep your chin up and more importantly, just be you.
P.S. Share with me in the comments how badly you’ve messed up making french toast because I’m praying up not the only one who hasn’t done it. haha.