Recipe for (Self) Love

She ran away from there as fast as she could, nervously turning the car key in the ignition, desperate to leave. The bewildered gentleman stood there, jaw dropped, at the crime scene. The engine was already purring, and the car was ready to go, but before she pressed the pedal, she called her best friend. After several long rings, she heard a shuffling noise, and Amy knew her friend was on the other end of the line.

“Are you hungry?” Amy blurted out.

“What makes you think I’ve got nothing to do on a Saturday evening?” came the voice on the other end. Amy smiled. “Common, I know you better than anyone. If something important was happening, you’d have told me.”

“You’re right! I am hungry! How about we check out that new restaurant in the neighbourhood? I haven’t been there yet,”

her friend suggested, and they both agreed.

“How was the date?” Ann whispered into the silence. Amy stuttered out an explanation of what a dreadful evening she’d had and was soon rushing off to meet her. Barely had they ordered when Amy began recounting all the juicy details of the awful encounter she’d experienced.

“Another date from the app. It seems like those platforms are full of creeps with…,” Amy started, before being interrupted by the waiter bringing their order. She blushed. A fantastic meal appeared on the table, and she dug right in. She needed to eat away the bitter taste of anger and disappointment.

“He was definitely another cheat and liar!” she sighed, cutting herself another piece.

“Another hopeless attempt, another disappointment,” Amy went on.

Her friend quietly sat there, listening to her grievances, only raising an eyebrow and giving a cynical smile.

“How is it possible that every attempt I make at dating ends in disaster? Just thinking back on all those dates makes my head spin!”

“Maybe it’s because almost all your exes were like the flu virus,” her friend whispered with a smile.

“What do you mean?” Amy demanded an answer.

“Well, they jumped from person to person, and it was exhausting trying to get rid of them! And, of course, it left you with scars.”

She was right. It was as if all the men suddenly looked like they were stitched together from red flags, and she couldn’t tell who was who. Any behaviour seemed suspicious. She put every man she’d met so far in the “unfit for life” category. Too neat hair, weird walk, one bad joke, or an awkward mole, and she was already backing off. She ran away from her last date after discovering the guy had a cat. The cat wasn’t really the problem, but it made for a convenient excuse. She ran so fast she nearly knocked over the table, mumbling something about having diarrhoea. She still blushed with embarrassment at the mere thought of it.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Amy sighed.

“No, it’s just that every little thing puts you off. And you’re not perfect either, darling. Remember that guy who was a head shorter than you? You looked like a giraffe next to him.”

“Yeah, but it was a beautiful head,” Amy shouted.

“Sure, beautiful, but completely empty,” her loyal friend teased and burst into laughter.

Amy frowned and cut another piece of meat. With the fork halfway to her mouth, she gave her friend a deep look.

“So, what does your ideal partner look like?” she asked, her mouth so full it was barely understandable.

“Definitely not some Don Juan! A charming devil who drags every woman he meets into sin – no, thank you,” Ann smiled.

“I want someone kind, caring, and gentle…”

“And faithful!” Amy interjected.

Ann laughed when she heard Amy’s call for loyalty.

“Well, that’s a given, but looking around, it feels like loyalty is becoming rare. Everyone’s just after quick satisfaction without any commitment these days,” Ann replied thoughtfully, stirring her tea.

“And honestly, it makes me sad. I want to find someone who values a real relationship, someone who isn’t afraid of deep conversations and more than just shallow dates,” she continued.

Amy nodded and sighed.

“I know exactly what you mean. It seems like everyone’s just looking for fun, and when it comes to what truly matters, they vanish like steam from a kettle,” she murmured, melancholy in her voice.

“That’s true,” Ann nodded. “But you know what I’ve learned? It’s all about being happy with yourself. You can’t expect someone else to complete you. Everything you need is already inside you. And the right person will come along when the time is right.”

Amy paused and stopped eating for a moment. “You’re one to talk, Miss ‘No Don Juans,’” she chuckled. “But what if the right time never comes? What if I’m destined to be abandoned or let down by every man?”

Ann reached across the table and gently tapped her hand. “Nonsense! Your standards are too high. Of course, it feels like every man disappoints you when you reject them over the smallest things. Maybe you should loosen up a bit and open your heart more. What do you think?”

Amy looked at her suspiciously. “Are you telling me to lower my expectations? Ann, this isn’t a game to see who gets the least problematic partner. I want someone who respects me and values who I am.”

Ann smiled and shrugged. “I’m not saying you should compromise your values. But maybe you could broaden your definition of who could be ‘the one.’ Or at least stop freaking out over minor things like cats or bad jokes.”

Amy laughed. “Okay, maybe the cat thing was a bit much… But seriously, where am I going to find someone who isn’t just another flu virus?”

Ann blinked at her, mischief in her eyes. “Maybe you need to change your strategy. Instead of all those dating apps, why not go to places where people with similar interests hang out? You might just meet someone who doesn’t behave like the next plague.”

Amy thought about what Ann had said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve been focusing on the wrong people. But still… the diarrhoea excuse was kind of genius, wasn’t it?”

They both burst out laughing, and Ann nodded in agreement. “Genius or not, I’m sure he’ll remember it,” Ann smiled, raising her tea mug in a toast.

“I wish we could just bake them like gingerbread men,” Ann laughed.

“Oh God, can you imagine? With my baking skills, I’d definitely burn him!” Amy exclaimed with a smile.

“So what? What’s wrong with a darker one? I wouldn’t mind something a little exotic,” Ann laughed again, continuing to eat thoughtfully. Suddenly, she pointed her fork at Amy, her eyes wide as if she had just come up with the most brilliant idea. “Two cups of charm, one tablespoon of seriousness, seven heaps of loyalty…”

Amy, smiling, joined in, “Two cups of beauty, seven cups of intelligence…”

“And don’t forget a dash of spontaneity, with a sprinkle of humour to keep things interesting!” Ann finished the recipe, laughing.

Amy burst out laughing and picked up her fork, mimicking Ann’s dramatic gesture. “So, we just mix all these ingredients, pop them in the oven at 180 degrees, and in thirty minutes, we’ve got the perfect man?”

“Exactly!” Ann nodded, still amused by their new theory. “And if it doesn’t turn out right, you just try again. After all, it’s only baking.”

Amy thought for a moment. “You know, you might be right. I should start treating this more like an experiment. Maybe I’ve just been looking for someone based on an old recipe, and it simply doesn’t work anymore.”

Ann looked at her, this time with a more serious expression. “Exactly, Amy. You don’t need to find someone perfect. You need someone who fits your own recipe. And who doesn’t feel like another virus.”

Amy took a deep breath and nodded slightly. “Maybe it’s time to change the recipe. And start baking a little differently.”

Ann raised her tea mug and laughed. “To a new recipe and men who don’t ruin our appetite for life!”

The two clinked their mugs with laughter and continued their meal while their new baking adventure waited somewhere ahead—perhaps in the oven of their imagination.

Amy took a sip of tea, barely holding back her laughter. “You know, if it were that easy, I’d probably open my own bakery for men. I’d offer all sorts of flavours and ingredients. Something for everyone.”

Ann laughed. “Oh no! You’d have queues of people lining up, and you’d end up with something you never even wanted!”

“True,” Amy admitted. “I’d have a bakery full of half-baked and burnt men. That wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“No, definitely not,” Ann agreed before pausing for a moment. “But… what if you tried something different? What if you stopped focusing on dating altogether for a while? Maybe it’s not about finding someone, but more about finding something… for yourself.”

Amy looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Ann began, running her fingers through her hair and tapping her fork against her plate, “you’re always looking for men who suit you, but what if you focused on something that makes you happy? Maybe the right guy will come along when you’re not even looking for him but looking for yourself.”

Amy pondered Ann’s words. “So, you think I should stop trying to find a man and instead focus on… what exactly?”

“Things that bring you joy! Travel, painting, yoga, reading… whatever makes you happy. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone who clicks with you just by chance.”

Amy chuckled. “Yeah, maybe I’ll start painting, and one day, some cute, creative, deep-thinking guy will come to my studio to buy a painting?”

Ann burst out laughing. “Exactly! Or, who knows, maybe you’ll take a pottery class and meet someone who can make mugs. You know, like in Ghost.”

Amy sighed. “I just hope no dead lover shows up with his fingers in the clay.”

They both laughed again, and the atmosphere lightened. But deep down, Amy felt that strange sensation—maybe Ann was really onto something. Perhaps it was time to stop forcing things, to stop searching for the perfect partner, and instead focus on finding herself.

“All right,” Amy finally said with a more serious expression. “You’re right. Maybe I should pay more attention to myself rather than these guys. It’s not really getting me anywhere.”

Ann gave her a supportive smile. “You know what, Amy? I think once you do that, you’ll be surprised how quickly you’ll start attracting the kind of people you’re looking for. Maybe not some devilishly charming Don Juans, but someone who truly understands you.”

Amy smiled. “Fine, I’ll give it a go. But if I get visited by the ghost of a potter, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ann laughed. “Deal! Now… how about we get dessert? Maybe I’ll find the recipe for the perfect man at the bakery across the street.”

Amy nodded. “That sounds like a plan. And if they happen to have coffee with an extra shot of loyalty, let me know!”

With that, they both stood up, ready to continue their search—not just for the perfect dessert but also for the next chapter in their lives.