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I’ve always described myself as someone who “can cook.” What I really mean is I can follow a recipe if I read it carefully and nothing unexpected happens. But when the person I’ve been seeing mentioned they love homemade Italian food, I confidently said, “I’ll cook for you sometime.” I do not cook Italian food. Instead of picking something safe I decided to go all in. Fresh pasta,. slow simmered sauce. The kind of meal that suggests I own multiple wooden spoons and say things like “let it reduce.” I also got her a gift, some roses from 1800flowers and luckily managed to get them with a discount code. I was hoping that would save me in case the cooking did not turn out well, which it didn’t. The dough started off sticky, then it became dry, then it became something that could probably survive a minor natural disaster. I kept adding flour like that would fix my emotional state. The sauce splattered everywhere. She showed up and I was pretending everything was under control. The kitch...