You may have come across the blog 300 Sandwiches this year in your weird internet travels. Its a site in which a heretofore unnamed woman was documenting her efforts to make 300 sandwiches for her boyfriend, at which point, he said, he would get her an engagement ring. Romance! Yesterday the woman revealed that she was New York Post page 6 reporter Stephanie Smith.
I hope you’re not eating a sandwich right now, because heres the true tale of love.
Each morning, he would ask, “Honey, how long you have been awake?”
“About 15 minutes,” I’d reply.
“You’ve been up for 15 minutes and you haven’t made me a sandwich?”
To him, sandwiches are like kisses or hugs. Or sex. “Sandwiches are love,” he says. “Especially when you make them. You can’t get a sandwich with love from the deli.”
One lazy summer afternoon just over a year ago, I finally gave in. I assembled turkey and Swiss on toasted wheat bread. I spread Dijon mustard generously on both bread slices, and I made sure the lettuce was perfectly in line with the neatly stacked turkey slices.
Eric devoured the sandwich as if it were a five-star meal, diving in with large, eager bites. “Babes, this is delicious!” he exclaimed.
As he finished that last bite, he made an unexpected declaration of how much he loved me and that sandwich: “Honey, you’re 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!”
Now, I know what you’re thinking: what a couple of backwards, sexist assholes, but that’s not the case at all. It’s probably much more cynical than that. This reeks of a blog-based movie-pitch concept in the 40 Days of Dating vein. So, you know, don’t be mad at them for fulfilling traditional gender roles, just traditional attention-hungry fameball ones.
Photo by Rene Cervantes via NYP