Apparently, when your boyfriend tells you he wants to eat dinner at your house, this means you are supposed to cook something.
Apparently, when you’re used to eating scrambled eggs and baked potatoes for dinner when left to fend for yourself, the bar isn’t set very high.
Apparently, pasta plus onions plus garlic plus sausage plus whatever else you find in your cabinet can’t turn out that badly.
Apparently, when your boyfriend says he’s coming for dinner, that means he’s going to fall asleep for 3 hours and arrive … 3 hours late.
Apparently, this meal is fine enough as a dinner for one plus the optional Netflix date.
Apparently, my love for Robin Wright is not limited to just Jenny from Forrest Gump.