Goods, bads, thick, and thin, pizza has been a constant, I’ll love pizza forever.
I mean, what is there to write about pizza? It’s delicious? Everyone loves it? (Unless you’re nuts). It’s the best thing in the world? Everyone knows that. But I guess it made sense why Alex would wonder why I’ve never done a post abut pizza. I mean, pizza is my most favorite meal (EVER)— and it’s been a huge part of our relationship (and my life) since day one. I ate it 9 times a week in college (sorry body, I ate like crap, but thank you good genes!) and could still eat it every day now (as healthy as I would like to be, pizza will always be number one in my heart). But the thing is… I don’t have a recipe for it. And unlike toast, I never get very creative with my pizza. I like it the same way every time: red sauce, lots of garlic, cheese (or fake cheese— which I think I’m giving up soon, but thats a different story) basil, and sometimes fresh arugula (if we have it, then why not?). So unless I’m showing off the same pizza every time, or maybe if I stick M in a chef coat with a ball of pizza dough (I should probably do this, she would really love it), what’s there to post about that someone wants to see or doesn’t already know? It’s pizza, and even though its nothing new, it’s amore.
I could tell you that many of my better memories with Alex have revolved around pizza. Everything from hilarious nights with one AM conversations about how pizza is democratic (drawings included), to weekly at-home date nights (once upon a time, pre-kiddo and pre 14 hour work schedules), to birthday breakfasts, to sweet gestures of boxed pizza waiting in the car after my delayed cross country flight from hell, to falling in love. Pizza was there.
I realized I haven’t talked a lot about Alex and I prior this whole having a kid thing. I think the only photo I’ve posted has been here, of us on halloween 2008, not dating and not even considering dating– though it doesn’t look like it). I don’t talk much of the past at all, I guess. Though, I probably should if I want to remember it all, considering it’s probably the only way I will. My memory? What memory? Well, where was I? I felt comfortable with Alex the moment I met him. He’s told me the first night we met was at a friends house. He stopped by and I was there, sitting on the couch, playing nintendo. I don’t remember this. He says the next time we met, we were at a concert, but honestly that night was so full of friends and new people, I don’t remember him being there at all. I moved to Miami a few months after that, with three roommates, one dog, and two cats. He stopped by a few times. He was nice, polite, and I liked his hair. I remember telling my mom about him. Not that I was interested, because I didn’t think I was, but I remember telling her how I met a new friend, and he was so nice, and would make some lucky lady very happy one day (yes, I actually told her this– a few times). I remember him peeking over my shoulder in the kitchen when I was making a quick red sauce and I was embarrassed— I didn’t know his love for food, and he didn’t know mine, but I knew I didn’t want him to see that embarrassing (to me) sauce. He remembers the first time I came over, it was at the beginning of us getting to know each other. A few of us walked in, I took off my shoes, plopped myself down, and made myself comfortable, even though I had never been there before.
Sitting on the couch, looking back, and laughing at the old days with Laura (my still best friend, and my roommate at the time) she has said to me “yeah, I never noticed it at the time, but you talked about him a lot and always said really nice things about him every time he was mentioned.” And I did. Looking back, I liked him a lot, I just wasn’t fully aware. It was a different kind of connection and comfort I felt with him, that I’ve never had with anyone else. This relationship–a friendship continued, with me completely unaware of anything beyond that. One day, I asked if I could come by. He offered to make dinner. Whether it was my idea or his, I don’t remember, but pizza came up as an option. We went to whole foods to buy ingredients. He suggested red wine (a tempranillo) with our meal. That night he made me pizza, and I decided I would love him forever.