Stephanie Smith, beautiful, seemingly intelligent, New York Post writer and author of 300sandwiches.com blog is on a mission to create 300 sandwiches for her gourmet wannabe Alexander Skarsgard lookalike boyfriend.(Shame on you Stephanie for even saying that.) Apparently, before he ever even gets his lazy ass out of bed he likes to ask her how why hasn’t she made him a sandwich? Yeah, a fucking dead rat and arsenic sandwich. Are his legs broken or is it just his brain that is damaged?
My boyfriend, Eric, is the gourmet cook in our relationship, but he’d always want me to make him a sandwich.
Each morning, he would ask, “Honey, how long you have been awake?”
“About 15 minutes,” I’d reply.
“You’ve been up for 15 minutes and you haven’t made me a sandwich?”
To him, sandwiches are like kisses or hugs. Or sex. “Sandwiches are love,” he says. “Especially when you make them. You can’t get a sandwich with love from the deli.”
One lazy summer afternoon just over a year ago, I finally gave in. I assembled turkey and Swiss on toasted wheat bread. I spread Dijon mustard generously on both bread slices, and I made sure the lettuce was perfectly in line with the neatly stacked turkey slices.
Eric devoured the sandwich as if it were a five-star meal, diving in with large, eager bites. “Babes, this is delicious!” he exclaimed.
As he finished that last bite, he made an unexpected declaration of how much he loved me and that sandwich: “Honey, you’re 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!”
And she squealed with delight and ran to the kitchen to get straight to it….well, right after she bought a domain and a fancy DSLR. Here’s this woman, a very educated, modern day woman who is good at her job, respected among her peers and has everything a woman could ever want with the exception of two things…a proposal from her chauvinistic boyfriend and obviously any self respect.
Basically, she is the dancing monkey in this situation. She’s made 176 sandwiches so far so only a little over half ways to her diamond ring…maybe…if he doesn’t change his mind. Or she doesn’t piss him off or get fat or something better comes along.
This all makes me wonder just what the fuck is wrong with women? I would never tell my boyfriend …just 300 more foot massages and I’ll let you put a ring on it. Just 300 lawns mowed and I will say yes. Only 300 more orgasms and I might consider letting you ask me to marry you. Have we no more self-respect? Has it been so ingrained into our heads as little girls that our only alternatives are to be married and submit to a man or become the dreaded cat lady that we will do anything to avoid becoming a cat lady even if it means not even being able to look ourselves in the mirror because we loathe ourselves so much?
You know if she wanted to do this and live with the fact that she earned her ring by making sandwiches for it, enough for him to deem her worthy of his ever after, why take it public and humiliate herself? Look we’ve all done some humiliating shit in our past in the name of love. I know I have. Not for the guy I married because he’s not an asshole who would want me to but there were others. People who make us so crazy that we question our own reasoning.
Things were moving at a natural pace, but I wondered what it would take for him to propose. I’m in my mid-30s, and my parents have been happily married for more than 35 years. I have always valued the commitment and dedication it takes to get married and stay married. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d like to raise a family with someone who feels likewise.
Maybe I needed to show him I could cook to prove that I am wife material. If he wanted 300 sandwiches, I’d give him 300 sandwiches — and I’d blog about it.
Hey, Stephanie you shouldn’t have to earn his desire to marry you; either he loves you or he doesn’t. Love is unconditional. It doesn’t come with stipulations and regulations and rules other than to love, honor and respect one another. By stipulating that you make him 300 sandwiches to earn the right to be asked to maybe be his wife is not honoring you and certainly not respecting you. It’s humiliating you and you are the only one dumb enough to not see it.For the love of God, you should have stayed anonymous.
Ten sandwiches or so in, I did the math. Three sandwiches a week, times four weeks a month, times 12 months a year, meant I wouldn’t be done until I was deep into my 30s. How would I finish 300 sandwiches in time for us to get engaged, married and have babies before I exited my childbearing years?
My mother was the voice of reason. “Relationships are a marathon, not a sprint,” she said. “Take it one sandwich at a time.”
I made sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert. I made sandwiches to get myself out of the doghouse — like No. 67, a scrambled egg, smoked salmon and chive creation that combined some of Eric’s favorite things to make up for my being 45 minutes late for dinner the night before.
Even after covering movie premieres or concerts for Page Six, I found myself stumbling into the kitchen to make Eric a sandwich while I still had on my high heels and party dress.
Step back girl and see what is really going on or if that ring means that damn much to you, just stop telling the world about it. I know love makes us blind and stupid but maybe you should stop embarrassing yourself. I think he’s got humiliating you down, you don’t need to assist him. Honestly, the only way I can see the power ever equalizing in this relationship is if she plans to pull a man on him and the minute they get married…she never cooks him another sandwich as long as they both shall live.
What is your boyfriend said he’s marry you if you lost 20 pounds? If you dyed your hair blonde? If you had a three-way? If you learned to cook with your toes? If you’d let him experiment with golden showers? Aren’t all these asking you to change? And if he wants you to change, is it really you that he wants to marry?Where do you draw the line? What do you think? Did your spouse put stipulations on the relationship before it could go to the next level?