Chef Boyardee's Rocky Start

Story Sent in by Catherine:

Paul repeatedly told me that he wanted to wow me with his cooking prowess, and so after a couple of dates out, I invited him to my place to cook me dinner. I offered to make something or to help, but he insisted on doing everything himself.

Not too long after he began in the kitchen, he looked over the supplies he had brought and looked more and more distraught. I asked him what was wrong, and he said that he had forgotten thyme. I had a little left, but he said that it wouldn't be enough. He then asked me if I'd mind running out to grab some while he began on the food. I trusted him well enough, and so I ran out to the grocery store.

When I returned home with the thyme, he wasn't in the kitchen, although he had left a pot of water boiling. I looked for him in the bathroom, called for him, and he didn't answer. I finally checked the bedroom.

He was on my bed, splayed face-up, wearing a pair of my underwear and nothing else.

I yelled, "Get out! Get out! Right now!"

He said, "But I'm here. Let's go."

"Get out! I'm calling the cops," I said, and ran away from the bedroom, to the phone.

I hesitated a moment, hoping he would dress himself and leave before I had to actually call. Sure enough, mere moments later, he ran out from my bedroom, covered just in a towel, and left my house, slamming the door behind himself. All of his food, kitchen supplies, clothes, and dignity were left behind, and he never came back to recover them.