The Foodie Call

In the Black – Foodie Call.
I’ve finally figured out what you all have known for years. Food and sex are the foundation of any good casual relationship, now more commonly known as the foodie call. Two essential needs being met at once. A delicate balance of being fed and erm… being fed! You get the picture.

So this is how mine went down. For a while now, he had been flirting online. I’ve only ACTUALLY met him once but you know when it’s special. He likes you, showers you with loads of attention, hence, its special. Normally I would have tried to seal the deal on the night but hey, I was drunk, the club was loud and sweaty and I may have been slightly distracted by the Thierry Henry look a like at the bar.

Last Thursday I came home and scanned the fridge. Hmmm. Beetroot, Soya milk and chocolate body paint do not a meal make. Even though I live within a mile of six supermarkets, I just couldn’t be bothered to leave my house again and then come back and cook. So I jumped online to see if there was anything happening where there was likely to be some grub. My friend Tia was suggesting The Westbourne, but only for a quick drink. But then HE came along. The email asked me how I was and we started chatting. I broke it down: I had no food, I can’t cook and I was so hungry that I was contemplating eating at the dodgy chippy conveniently forgetting the stomach cramps from last time!

Yes, I know black women are meant to be able to throw down in the kitchen but I guess I assumed throw down meant something else entirely? Don’t judge my precious.

So he suggested that he come around and cook. I pictured him trying to rustle up something with the body paint and beetroot. It would also mean me having to clean the flat. So I told him no. Then he counter offers to cook for me at HIS place. Now this is a plan I could work with. A meal, potential sex and NO laundry in the morning? JACKPOT.

I jump in the shower and mentally plan an outfit that screams: ‘I could wear this to work tomorrow.’ Then, just as Kylie and I were hitting the dodgy high note, my stomach rumbled and it hit me. I didn’t know where he lived! So I jumped back online and asked. He eventually told me.


Needless to say Tia and I had a great night out at The Westbourne and I managed to grab some food. I’m all up for a foodie call my precious but you need to have the right ingredients. What if he couldn’t cook? What if he couldn’t satisfy? What if he lived outside Zone 2?

Gotta run. I’ve got a foodie call with a guy in Gloucester Road who swears his food will make me cry out. I guess that means lots of onions.

Ciao for now my precious

© Chelsea Black

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.