Recipe

Once upon a time, there was a boy I had a crush on (is this a timeless way to describe my life or what?). I'm not really sure what the catalyst was for the initial attraction-- perhaps it was because he was lonely, but then he found friends. Perhaps it was because he was a knight in shining armor, rescuing me, but then he stopped. I didn't think much about his looks until I had a dream one night that we were making out, but then he became an obsession. With hindsight bringing clarity, I've since reminded myself to not judge someone based on my dreams (the ones that come whilst sleeping, nor the ones I imagine when I should be paying attention to the profit sharing guys explaining the distribution of my employees' 401k in the guaranteed fund). And while I recognized with my head and my heart that this boy wasn't even close to being "the One" (meaning, the One I should choose, because I believe soul mates are chosen, not pre-determined), it took a while for it to sink in. Where I should have been turned off by his apathy and broken promises, I still kept him on the back burner. He could conveniently step into any fantasy where I was traveling abroad, sitting with my husband in a swing on our front porch as octogenarians, waltzing in a gazebo in Saltzburg, etc. It's like the way I've always thought of my wedding reception-- same music, color scheme, dress, etc., but plug in a different groom, based on the convenient crush. And when there wasn't a legitimate crush and I needed a face for our first dance to "Somebody" by Depeche Mode, I'd always go to whichever back-burner guy I had on reserve.
But every once in a while, the proverbial back-burner would be covered in pots and pans, leaving the heating element on in the front of the stove. For safety's sake, I'd move one of those myriad vessels into the front position for efficiency and convenience. And thus we see evidence of what Sokphal has accurately described as the revolving door of my love life (or, for the sake of the allegory, the menu rotation).
In real life, I'm actually a decent cook. Most of the things I make are delicious, but part of that is because they are the tried-and-true recipes. Were you to ask my little brother, he'd say there are about seven things I make very well (I'd argue there are more, but considering he's become the most vocal food critic at any family potluck, I feel honored to have the most approved recipes). But I try to be adventurous and am often willing to try something new I've seen on the Food Network or read about in a magazine. Sometimes the results pay off, but sometimes the whole batch of whatever has to be thrown out because it's awful. Still, despite popular belief, I branch out occasionally. But there are still some ingredients that seem to work with everything, and some that aren't so popular, but are particularly pleasing to my own palate. Oh, there are plenty of people who love rosemary, for example, but it doesn't always go with the other things I'm cooking.
Similarly, I'm looking for a better relationship recipe. And because the revolving stove has been full for so long, I've also got the oven pre-heated, so perhaps baking is a better option. There are those essential ingredients that go into any bread, for example-- flour that's been through the mill and come out more refined (but not too refined-- I like my wheat a tad coarse), salt for savor and integrity, and yeast to make it all rise to the occasion. The bread needs to be wholesome and sustaining, and it's best when it's warm and comforting. But in this case, I think I'd also like to add that rosemary for remembrance and for interest. There's that subtle zing to make things exciting. The white bread on reserve in the pantry is toast. I want something substantial and delicious and healthy. And in the mean time, I've cleaned off the stove. It's good to be rid of the clutter and the fire hazard.