I never saw this one coming either.
We were together six months before getting married. We moved in together a month before we got married. I cooked for him nearly every night after we got serious, which was just a few weeks after we met (three big red flags in three sentences). He never complained and actually gave compliments. And he would even eat meat when he claimed to be a vegetarian. He pigged out on everything I made, and I foolishly thought he liked my food.
That changed not long after we got married. Suddenly he didn't like that I made so many "one-pot" meals. He wanted the meat-vegetable-starch dinner, like they serve in prison cafeterias. No deviation. No creativity. And it's terribly expensive to do that more than once a week, plus you dirty up so many dishes. That didn't matter. It's how his mother cooked. Soon he was talking about the things his mother made, how she made them, and how different it all was from what he was eating now. Back then (two years ago) I would try so hard to make things he liked and do it the way he liked. I would be in knots if he didn't like something. And here's the thing. He never once gave me a compliment about my cooking after we got married. I couldn't understand why he suddenly stopped liking the food. What was I doing wrong? And honestly, he stopped complimenting me at all.
So Thanksgiving 2009 rolls around. He wanted stuffing, which I had never made before, but I had always wanted to try it. He wanted the kind his mother made, and when he described it to me, I wanted to gag. The queen of the trash food, she is. He also wanted me to make "her cheesecake." I told him to get me her recipe, and I would make it for him. Well, funny thing is, when he asked her for her recipe, she told him the one she always made was the Jello Instant No-Bake one. He didn't even know the difference between that and a real one. He wanted me to make her "Cherry Pie," but she couldn't produce a recipe when asked, and it got me wondering if it was one from the store. Nothing wrong with that, but I guess I hated his worshipful attitude toward his mother. He's over 40 for sweet jesus sake!
So I made the stuffing, but I used actual bread instead of a sodium-rich bagged mix, following all of the rules of safety when sticking it inside a raw turkey, which he thought stupid. Mom didn't do that, and no one got sick. I, on the other hand, was not taking chances. I thought he was gonna choke on his tongue when he told me he actually liked it better than his mother's. She also couldn't really cook worth a shit, which is what I discovered by listening to his descriptions of her food and by eating her "cooking" when she came to our house one time.
Soon he started saying that he would start doing his meals himself. You know, because I never made anything he liked and all. He complained that he didn't like having to cook for himself after working all day, and that's why he would eat what I made, even though he didn't like it. I told him ways he could do a lot of the prep beforehand, perhaps on the weekend, and it would shorten the cooking time. I also told him that he could do some cooking over the weekend, and then he would have things in the fridge he could just heat up when he got in from work. Well, that didn't work. He claimed he didn't have time on the weekends (with all the ass-sitting he did). He also claimed that if he did meals separate from ours, then we would still be using the kitchen when he came in, and he would have to wait, and then he couldn't eat until too late.
Excuses. All excuses. It took me a while to realize what his problem was.
1. He was conning me into thinking he was a nice person while we were dating. Once I married him, he could pretend he wasn't really Dr. Jekyll after all. It was all Mr. Hyde within three months after "I do." I actually wonder how he choked down so much food if he loathed it so much. What a martyr!
2. He wanted me to be unsure of myself and always second-guessing my actions.
3. He wanted me to work my ass off to try to make him happy, so he could tell me how I wasn't measuring up. He liked the feeling of control it gave him. I think he liked seeing me spin my wheels. Sadistic bastard.
4. He couldn't stand that I could do something well (like cooking) and he couldn't. Or that precious mommy couldn't either.
5. He didn't like that I had knowledge and experience that he didn't have and didn't give me.
The thing is, he's a human garbage can. He will shovel the most disgusting food into his mouth. He eats plain yogurt with wheat bran mixed into it. The idea alone is sickening. The smell, well, you can imagine. I've made meals that were exactly what he said he wanted, and you know what? He would come in, go to the pantry, grab a pack of flour tortillas, and go sit on the sofa and eat them. Um...just made a meal for you? You want any? Now if I put the food on a plate and took it to him, he would eat it. But telling him it's ready in the kitchen? Ah, no, he must be served.
I think that's the key with most things about him. He must be served. Adored. Admired. Feared. And don't let him think you don't look up to him and see him as the ultimate expert on EVERYTHING.
He bought a book about the industrial agriculture thing. He then decided that we shouldn't eat any factory-farmed foods. I agree, but with his idea of how much we should spend on food, we were lucky it wasn't Little Debbie's snack cakes for dinner every night. Oh, but spending a fortune on food is OK, as long as it was his idea. That little plan of his didn't last long because there's a bit of work involved. You have to contact the farms yourself, drive there, make sure you have freezer space, plan, arrange, and so forth. He's way too lazy.
It's much easier to complain.