My boyfriend, John, and I have a pretty solid divide-and-conquer approach to our everyday life, in that he's a wonderfully effective human being and I am much less so. Whether he's vanquishing a stack of dirty dishes, all the comma splices in an academic paper, or the Rome city guards — we play a lot of Assassin's Creed — he does so quickly and with finesse. It's one of the many reasons why I love him.
When we're hungry for takeout, John is almost always the one to pick our Seamless orders up from nearby restaurants, although I tend to do the actual ordering. A few purchases of jumbo challah French toast ago, I decided to thank him for his willingness to shrug on a coat and brave the wilds of the Upper East Side by pranking him. Because that's what good girlfriends do.
What follows is a collection of complete and total lies I've told restauranteurs about my boyfriend via Seamless. I'm proud to say that I've committed the cardinal New York City sin of making a takeout pickup awkward — on his behalf, of course. To show him how much I love him.
But hey — a local Italian place now sends us an extra medium-sized pizza whenever we order, so it can't be all bad.