Story of a stubborn, single girl

It was a nice gesture, a gift from Cowgirl Creamery off the California coast, one of the most famous places you can get premium cheese.

I had to admit, as delicious as it was the smell almost negated the taste.

"It's certainly strong," I said, not wanting to pass judgement on a thoughtful gift.

"It smells like ass," B-friend replied.

"It's still good," I insisted. "It's supposed to smell that way."

"Well then YOU eat it," he said. From that point forward, it became MY cheese.

The next day I woke up to a rotting smell in the kitchen.

"I thought you threw out the trash," I said to B-friend.

"I did," he said. We both toured the seven-foot-square space noses-first, wondering if we'd missed some trash, or failed to clean salad out of the sink drain, or whether the cat had killed something.

B-friend opened the refrigerator, "Oh my God!" he said. "It's your stinky cheese!"

I had to believe him; as soon as he opened the refrigerator the stench in the room became much sharper.

"Wow," I said, more amazed than disgusted. "That must be some REALLY good cheese. I put the cheese in a Tupperware container.

"That should do it," I said.

For the next few days I'd spread a creamy sliver of the cheese on a cracker, on bread, whatever could hold its own with such strong flavor. And every day, like clockwork, B-friend would exclaim, "Phew! Did you take the cheese out? Why don't you just throw that stuff in the trash?"

"It's good cheese," I said. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

After a few days I ran out of bread, but I couldn't eat the cheese by itself--it was too strong.

"Let's just throw the cheese out," B-friend said. "I can smell it through the Tupperware."

"Nope. Let's buy some more bread."

We bought more bread, and I continued to take small slivers of cheese--one per day. For the first time, I didn't have to eat something quickly, before B-friend finished it. I could eat it as slowly as I wanted and savor all of it.

"I really wish you'd finish that cheese," b-friend said.

"I'm taking my time with it," I insisted. "This is good cheese; you don't just scarf it down."

We went away this weekend to a bed and breakfast a few hours from our house to look at a wedding venue and to celebrate my birthday. B-friend packed fruit, granola bars, and crackers to tide us over during the car ride and a hike we'd planned between the wedding venue and the B&B. Once we got on the highway, B-friend furrowed his brow.

"What stinks in here?" he said. I sat there silently.

"You didn't?" he said.

I didn't say anything.

"Jory!" he yelled. "Why?"

"It's good cheese." I said.

"I just don't understand," he said. "Why do you insist on keeping that cheese?"

I didn't know. In our relationship I'm usually the one insisting on conserving space, getting rid of things that we didn't need--books, paper, cheap furniture, old clothes, leftovers. And yet, this stinking hunk of dairy was, to me, indispensable.

At our next pit stop, b-friend put the cheese in the trunk. We could still smell it.

We stopped at the ranch where we were considering having our wedding. The owner of the ranch gave us a tour of the grounds. From the moment we stepped into the main house of the ranch, we knew this was where we wanted to be married. I imagined our families sitting on the porch in the sun the morning before the ceremony, drinking coffee and getting to know each other.

"Let me show you more of the ranch," the owner said. "I'll just hop in your car." She saw the hesitant looks on our faces and said, "Or we can take mine. That's fine, too."

"No," B-friend said. "We can drive...we just...well...my fiance brought some cheese with us and it's kind of stinky."

"It's OK," our host said to us as she got into our car." I don't smell anything." We knew she was lying.

After touring the grounds, B-friend and I sat on a dock overlooking the pond that flanked the ranch. We unpacked our food and had lunch while deciding if we should get married there.

"Well, what do you think?" B-friend said. "Do you want some of my food?" He'd packed dinner leftovers.

"I love it," I said. "No thanks, I have the cheese." By now it had been in our trunk for a few hours and had softened to a thick cream.

"That's great; I love it too," he said, watching me eat. "I think I'm going to be sick."

We agreed that we'd have the ceremony at the ranch and packed up our food. B-friend requested that I pack anything that touched the cheese in its own plastic bag. 

"Sometimes I just don't understand you," he said. "But fortunately I love you and it doesn't matter."

Later that day we arrived at the Bed and Breakfast where we would stay for the night.

"You can throw out the cheese here," B-friend said.

"No!" I said. "Then the house will smell... And besides, it's good cheese!"

We checked into our room and noticed a small refrigerator on the floor that we shared with two other couples.

"I'll put the cheese here for now." I said packing away the now stinking Tupperware.

B-friend and I toured the grounds of the Bed & Breakfast. I'd been there one time before, with an ex-boyfriend.

"This place looks exactly like it did five years ago," I said to B-friend. I found that a pleasant surprise; though the relationship I was in at the time wouldn't last a week after that trip, I still held fond memories of the inn. I suppose, the first time I was there I knew that we were going to break-up, so I made the experience of the place my own, instead of ours. Now, I was willing to share it.

"Maybe some of our family could stay here for the wedding," I said. We spoke with the innkeeper about reserving rooms and then went back to our room to relax. B-friend left to look at the other rooms and encountered another guest stocking the refrigerator. From our room I could hear B-friend apologizing profusely for his "fiancee's cheese."

"That's OK," the guest said, "I'm having trouble smelling today." I knew he was lying.

B-friend returned and opened a bottle of wine, then we played his favorite boardgame. He helped me win.

"You know," I said. "This is a perfect day."

B-friend said, "Let's go to dinner." He'd made reservations at a restaurant we'd gone to when we first started dating three years ago, the first time we'd taken a trip together.

"How romantic," I said, though we were in a very different place the last time. He'd come out of a relationship, and I'd come out of several insignificant relationships. I'd been hesitant to go away with B-friend because I didn't know if, a week later, we'd still be together. There was no reason to think this would be the case; I just wasn't used to people who stuck around.

I ended up going to the restaurant with B-friend three years ago and having one of the best conversations with him we've ever had. I remember having thought to myself, well, today I can be happy here with him. And maybe tomorrow, too.

We washed up and went out to dinner. The food was as good as it was three years ago, but the conversation was different. We talked more about the food than each other, since this time, we knew almost everything about each other. And we talked about the wedding. I do what I always do and defaulted to details.

"People will be hungry you know." I said.

"What do you mean? When?"

"Before the wedding. We should give them something to eat beforehand."

"Let's wait until we can write this down," B-friend said.

"OK. Nothing too heavy. It could be hot outside."

After dinner we went to a movie and returned to the B&B around 11pm. As we walked up the stairs to our room the smell was almost eye-watering.

"That's it!" B-friend said. Tomorrow morning we are throwing out that cheese! At this point I couldn't argue.

The next morning we went downstairs for breakfast. I saw who must have been the man B-friend spoke to the day before.

"You must be the woman with the cheese!" he said.

"We're going to throw it out today," I said.

We felt badly throwing out the cheese at the bed and breakfast and having the owner wonder what died, so we wrapped it in another layer of plastic and put it in the trunk of the car. When We got home the cheese was nearly melted. There was still so much of it left, and there were some crackers in the cupboard, but I was done with the cheese. I tossed it in the trash.

"Don't throw it out inside!" B-friend said. He took out the trash and then came back inside.

"Phew," he said, "It still smells in here, but the smell should subside."

It was tough for me to toss out something that was of such quality, and something that was all mine. Still, I knew the cheese had to go.

It's a shame, though. It was really good cheese.

Comments

[Dave]

Good lord...what kind of cheese was it? When I have the chance to visit a real cheese shop, I like to ask the cheesemaster (or whatever you call them) for three kinds of cheeses: a good "starter" cheese, an "intermediate" cheese, and an "advanced" cheese. The last advanced cheese I had (sadly, I have forgotten the name...I think it might have begun with R and came from Germany) had a fine pungency that induced confusion and dismay in other customers in the shop.

[Kayll]

Too funny. Have you ever watched Wallace and Gromit? They loved a good bit o cheese.

[Steve Sherlock]

That must have been some good cheese indeed, one for you to keep it around so long; two for it to smell so.

[jen]

It must be love if he can put up with the smell of your cheese. And, happy birthday. Fancy sneaking that one in the middle of the story!!

[Seun Osewa]

Wow. I've never considered cheese to be such a funny food!

[Suebob]

I gave you some link love over at http://linkateria.blogspot.com

Too funny.

[des]

That's good cheese. And a good fionce for putting up with it.
Question: are you going to be serving said cheese at your wedding?