Meeting the man of my dreams

by Christine Whitman, Senior Staff Writer

The easiest way to describe last weekend is relaxing—or lazy if you’d like to look on the negative side of life, but I believe myself to be an abundantly positive individual. It was a Saturday night, and I had been watching Netflix basically all day. But suddenly, hunger struck. I never knew that hunger could help me meet the perfect man of my dreams.

In these situations, you commonly have three options: order take out, cook or starve to death. Starving to death was obviously not an option, and I was too relaxed to cook anything that evening. Meaning there was only one option left—take out.

Living in Southern California, there is an abundance of options for take out around every corner to soothe any food craving. But as I had been watching Netflix practically all day, I stuck with one of the classics, and one of my favorites, pizza.

There are several pizza places in my area, but I was not looking to spend a fortune, as I am a college student. I also was unwilling to leave the house, because that would have involved me putting on real clothes and presenting myself decently to the outside world.

So of course I did what any college student looking for a cheap meal would do and ordered from Domino’s. Where else can I get two medium pizzas for $12? As far as I know, nowhere else. But seriously if anyone knows another place, let me know.

Being the 21st century, I don’t have to have the awkward phone conversation with a Domino’s worker about my abnormal pizza-eating habits where they can silently judge me because I can order to my heart’s desire online. I swear technology was created for this purpose.

I went on to Domino’s website, created my two fabulous pizzas, paid and begun the anxious period of waiting. I wouldn’t consider myself a patient person, and I’ve found waiting for pizza to be delivered when I’m starving makes me increasingly more impatient than usual.

To pass the time, I started another episode of “Orange is the New Black,” while consciously attempting to ignore the constant rumbling in my stomach. But to no avail, I found myself glancing at the clock every five minutes.

Then after what seemed like forever — which was actually only 15 minutes — I heard the alluring sound of the doorbell. I’ve never jumped off the couch so quickly. I ran to the door, unlocked it and saw the most beautiful sight, the man of my dreams. I smiled from ear to ear, said hello to the pizza-delivery boy, handed him my money, plus tip of course, and went back inside.

I grabbed the red pepper out of the cabinet, the ranch out of the fridge and sat back down on the couch full of happiness. Who would have ever guessed that the man of my dreams would be a medium, extra-cheesy pizza with pepperoni, sausage and mushrooms? Before last weekend, I never would have guessed either.

I guess I should say that last weekend I met the men of my dreams because two pizzas are better than one.

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