When the Date Cancels, Make Spaghetti

A love story between a woman and her artichokes

So there I was, hyping myself up for a blind date my friend had set me up on.
Location: locked.
Outfit: immaculate.
Optimism: …forced.

I’d structured my day around this date, despite the fact that I’d been low-key resistant from the get-go, mentally noting red flags for this man before I’d even met him. I was resistant to go on this particular date for a multitude of reasons. I thought about cancelling a dozen times but told myself: Stacey, be kind. Don’t be so judgy. You can do this.

Anyway…
I’m about to walk into yoga when my phone pings. Blind Date Guy says he’s unwell. Could we rain-check?

Half of me thinks: How. Dare. He. Wasting my precious time. Cancelling hours before the date. The AUDACITY.
The other half of me thinks: Fair enough. Rest up sweetie. Also realising… I’m free.

Suddenly, I had an entire Thursday evening to myself which is a luxury in London. I could have called a friend and booked something else in but when I tuned into what I actually wanted for my evening, the answer was: Nothing. No-one. Just me.

And then I remembered: the day before, I’d done a shoot and come home with an absurd quantity of globe artichokes. This was my moment. This was our moment. Instead of wallowing in Cancelled Date Self-Pity™, I would cook.

And what unfolded next wasn’t just dinner. It was a spaghetti worth rearranging your entire love life for.