potential for fuck up.

I think I've perhaps let too much of my real self come through with Work Guy. Nothing bad has happened. There's now a stock of vegetarian friendly foods in his house, on top of everything else (DISLIKE. Last night I got just stirfried vegetables, on their own, because the sauce he'd bought for the noodles etc was a Pad Thai full of fish sauce. I was perfectly happy with that). But it's got to the quite-a-few-dates stage where he's like 'yeah, you don't eat anything/you're really fussy/are you sure you don't want more? Really? Take more. Please'.

I hate this stage - having been here before, I know it's awkward, and I have few options:
- I can choose to ignore it, but then have him probably be a bit pissy and confused because I refuse to eat anything he gives me/turn down lunch etc.
- I can buy food and take it to his, then cook and control portions for myself, but I'm not doing that all the time, basically because it's an expensive fuss, and I'm a bit cheapskate and lazy.
- I could just not eat around him, but that will probably end up with me raiding cupboards for handfuls of raisins and uncooked baguettes at 5am.

Or, sadly, I could go with the truth. That when I was younger I was so unadventurous I ate solely carbohydrate and apples. Then I branched out my diet and developed late, sudden puppy fat. Then I stopped eating altogether. Then started again at an alarming rate. And now I'm all fucked up, somewhere in between the two, with the fussiness of vegetarianism thrown in for a laugh.

I think I'm going to hold on the truth, though. My competitiveness and general OCD were introduced last night with a game of Monopoly, in which I kicked ass, the notes were all facing the same way, and I gave change to the bank (like, need to pay £35? Give a £50 and a £5 and take £20 back. As if I was at work at the shop).

I have been branded a loser - fortunately with affection, at least for the moment. Crazy needs to be released in small doses, I think.