"You like Indian food," Andrew told me, completely out of the blue.
I don't remember what we were talking about before--his statement was so random that I completely forgot our previous conversation and instead found myself wondering why he thought to inform me of my apparent love of Indian food.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"I just figured that out tonight," he said, "Because you ordered Indian food."
"So? We ate at an Indian restaurant--you ordered Indian food, too."
It wasn't that I was contradicting him for contradiction's sake. I do like Indian food. I just wanted to know why his little epiphany occurred last night.
"You ordered Indian food last night and that one time we went to California Pizza Kitchen, you ordered an Indian pizza."
I didn't remember what kind of pizza I had ordered there.
"That mango tandoori chicken grossness," he prompted.
"Oh, yeah! That was good!"
"See? You like Indian food,"
Okay, you've proved your point. I like Indian food. So sue me.
I also like Italian and Mexican and Middle Eastern and Russian and...let's just say I'm not quite as picky as Andrew is when it comes to eating.