There is one spoon in my apartment. There is one bowl. There is one cup in my apartment. It is a coffee mug. We share the wine in the mug.
I taste the blue cheese. “I can’t eat this,” I say. “It tastes awful. How could somebody eat this?”
“Are you serious? I thought you said you liked cheese.”
“What is the blue stuff, anyway?”
“That’s mold. It’s good. It’s what makes it stinky.”
“Oh my God, mold? That’s disgusting! No way am I eating that!”
“During the aging process, the cheese makers pierce the cheese with stainless steel needles to allow the mold to grow into the channels and cause the marbling effect. It’s really quite amazing.” She looks anxious.
I sit on the floor with her long enough to finish the Crane Lake. I watch her eat the mold cheese. It is both disgusting and extremely sexual. She seems nervous that I am refusing to eat the mold cheese.
I sit on the edge of my bed and begin to take my shoes off as she puts the cheese leftovers in my refrigerator. “The only things in your fridge are milk, a case of Bud Light, and some ketchup packets,” she says, “and now some stinky cheese you won’t eat.”
She sits next to me on my bed. Yes, she is on my bed. Finally. Thank fucking God.
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