My fiancée has a strange habit: she always makes us order the same dish when we eat out. I was tired of it, we argued, she cried, and she reluctantly let me choose once. I picked hot wings, and she agreed but barely ate and seemed uncomfortable.
The next morning I asked why she always did this. She explained that, in a past relationship, she felt embarrassed to order what she wanted, so she learned to match her partner’s choice. Over time she started equating ordering the same food with safety and connection.
I reassured her that she didn’t have to “pass a test” with food to prove our relationship. We compromised: one shared dish and one different choice each time. But later she confessed she’d been ordering things she hated just to match me—like mushrooms—because she thought that’s what love meant.
We began being honest about preferences. I planned a weekend to help her rediscover her tastes, and she started enjoying food again. As she grew confident, she even chose an unconventional wedding dessert bar instead of cake, and her mom eventually agreed.
After we married, she revealed she’d been accepted into a year-long culinary program in Oregon. Though it was hard being apart, we stayed connected through cooking and video meals. She bloomed in her program, and I learned to cook too.
Eventually I surprised her at her final showcase. We moved to Oregon, I continued remote work, and she opened a pop-up kitchen called “The Same Plate,” serving two complementary dishes that celebrated differences.
We learned love isn’t about being the same, but sharing—even our differences. Be honest about what you like; love will meet you there.