Yesterday morning, after going to CrossFit and soundly thrashing my shins and forearms with a jumprope — darn double-unders! — I headed back to Sweetie’s house with thoughts of breakfast dancing in my head. I’ve eaten my cooking, and I’ll be honest and say that I don’t necessary recommend doing so to others. Because I really wanted Sweetie to eat — Why is it men have this amazing ability to “forget” to eat? Why don’t I have that ability? — and because he has mentioned banana pecan waffles several times recently, I decided I’d call the local Waffle House and see if they had such an creature on their menu, and if so, place a to-go order I could pick up on the way back from the box. (Fun with Definitions: CrossFit “gyms” are called “boxes”.) The overly chipper answerer of the phone at Waffle House indicated that they do, indeed, have banana pecan waffles, so I placed my order, made the fasted trip ever to the grocery store, and made a beeline to pick up breakfast.
Now, you must understand that I was feeling quite proud of myself at that point for coming up with this idea. After all, in our 3.5 years together, I have never picked up breakfast, let alone banana pecan waffles, so I expected Sweetie would be really pleased with his morning meal, and that idea made me happy.
My order was ready when I arrived at the Waffle House, so I was in and out of there in a flash, and headed to Sweetie’s house. Upon my arrival, I announced that I’d brought breakfast and that breakfast was banana pecan waffles. They smelled heavenly in the car between the restaurant and the house, by the way. Sweetie seemed pleased as I placed his still-hot waffles (and sausage) on a plate and handed it to him. I’ll admit that I noticed some kind of dark things in the waffles as I was putting them on his plate, but I didn’t investigate; I thought they were probably either the pecans, or bananas that had darkened after being on the griddle.
I sat down across from Sweetie with my plate about the time he decided to investigate the “dark things” in his waffle. He flipped one over, and announced, “Um, these are blueberries.” Well, crap.
Sure enough, the waffles that were supposed to be banana pecan, were actually blueberry pecan. This would not have been a deal-breaker for me, as I love blueberries, and will sit and eat them by the handful. Sweetie, on the other hand, does not eat blueberries. Ever. Under any circumstance. Ever.
Naturally, I offered to call Waffle House to see if they could correct our order. Sweetie pointed out, however, that he is reluctant to eat anything after a complaint is made concerning an order. Quite a valid point, but I was still extremely bummed that my breakfast surprise had turned into a total disappointment. Sweetie, however, was beyond great about it, and even professed that it was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever done. Wow! I guess this was one time when it really was the thought that counted. (Of course, another stab at banana pecan waffles will be taken soon…)