Gather ‘round, friends, because nothing screams "modern romance" quite like a grown man refusing to cook his own food while demanding four meticulously timed meals based on a half-baked Instagram diet that sounds like it was invented by a shirtless guy selling protein powder in a pyramid scheme.
Let’s set the table for this hot, microwaved mess.
A weary woman took to the hallowed halls of Mumsnet—a.k.a. the Reddit of the British suburban soul—to ask if she was being unreasonable for not wanting to be a one-woman catering service for her partner’s absurdly specific, protein-and-veggie-only, no-cream, no-fun diet plan.
Spoiler alert: no, she’s not being unreasonable. She’s being incredibly patient and possibly too diplomatic for someone who’s one food prep session away from throwing a head of broccoli at her future husband's face.
🥩 Welcome to Meal Prep Prison
Let’s start with his diet. This man—an ex-semi-pro MMA fighter—has embarked on a highly scientific nutritional regimen consisting of:
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Eating only between 12–4 p.m. (Because clearly, metabolism sleeps like a Victorian widow and mustn’t be disturbed outside of these sacred hours.)
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Consuming four small meals a day (in a four-hour window? Is this a tapas bar or a hostage negotiation?)
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Requiring said meals to be a variety but with no cream, only specific carbs, and of course, no actual participation from him in making them.
And who, pray tell, is supposed to prepare this Michelin-star MMA madness? Why, his fiancée, of course! The same woman who works 9 to 5, Monday to Friday, like a functioning adult—not a toddler who refuses to eat unless someone else arranges their peas in a smiley face.
Her weekends, specifically Sundays, have now become a sacrificial altar to this diet. While other couples are sleeping in or going to brunch, she's standing in the kitchen with a spreadsheet of macros, roasting endless chicken thighs and steaming vegetables like she's running a bootcamp for picky cavemen.
Ladies, this is what happens when you say “yes” to a man whose ideal body image still lives in a sweaty cage fight from 2016.
🥦 Instagram Bro Science Strikes Again
Where did this culinary manifesto come from? According to the woman, it was some random Instagram video. You know, the place where all the world’s least qualified nutritionists shout into the void between clips of them deadlifting with poor form and talking about "toxins."
Never mind actual science. This guy saw someone with abs say “only eat between noon and four, bro,” and decided that’s gospel. It’s giving male Goop, but without the candles or self-awareness.
He’s so sold on it that he’s outsourced the labor entirely. Why should he waste his precious bicep energy chopping a bell pepper when he has a live-in fiancée who can double as his unpaid personal chef?
When she pointed out that she’s got her own work schedule and, you know, life, he breezily suggested, “It’s not that hard to throw some meat and veg in the oven.”
Oh, really?
Dear Sir, allow me to throw this entire kitchen at you and see how not-hard that feels.
🍽️ Divorce Dinner Is Served
The woman, bless her hungry heart, still tried to navigate this mess with compassion. She didn't mock his insecurities. She acknowledged he’s fit, if a little doughier than his cage match days. She even meal prepped for a while—likely out of love, or at least hope that this man-child would one day touch a spatula.
But what she got instead was:
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No gratitude.
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No compromise.
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No cooking.
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No sense of irony about being too lazy to cook while on a fitness diet.
Let’s be clear. This man has a 90-minute lunch break. That is enough time to cook, eat, meditate, AND write an apology note to your girlfriend for being a walking entitlement complex.
Instead, he spends that time doing... what? Staring at his chicken like it’s going to cook itself with the power of positive thinking?
🔥 Mumsnet, Assemble!
Naturally, the Mumsnet hive didn’t disappoint. Within minutes, the comments lit up like a stovetop of scorn.
“There is no way I’d accommodate that level of fussiness. You don’t ‘have’ to spend Sundays batch cooking because he ‘can’t’ cook. Use your words, say no and just cook what you want to eat when you want to eat it.”
Translation: girl, drop the spatula and pick up your dignity.
Another commenter delivered the kind of British sarcasm that’s so dry it should come with a glass of water:
“Sounds like a great guy, I’m sure you’ll have a very happy marriage.”
That's British for "run, before your wedding cake turns into a frozen Tupperware of resentment."
🧽 Domestic Inequality: The Sequel No One Asked For
Let’s zoom out for a second. This isn’t just about diet. This is about domestic labor, respect, and weaponized incompetence—the trilogy of doom in modern relationships.
Weaponized incompetence, in case you haven’t met it, is the charming tactic where one partner pretends they’re incapable of basic tasks (like feeding themselves) so the other person picks up the slack. And guess what? It’s usually the woman doing the picking up.
It’s not that he “can’t” cook. He just won’t. And why would he, when he’s found a way to delegate the job to his fiancée and make her feel like she’s the problem for not being supportive enough?
This isn’t a dietary issue. It’s a power dynamic with extra seasoning.
🛑 Your Body, His Rules?
Let’s also talk about the fact that this man wants her to cook a second meal entirely separate from what she’s eating, while he declines to eat what she cooks.
He’s effectively saying:
“My body goals are more important than your time, your energy, your preferences, or your right to eat a normal dinner without turning into Gordon Ramsay.”
And that, dear reader, is the sound of a thousand relationship red flags flapping in the wind.
🍴 Kitchen Ultimatums and Life Lessons
Now, to be fair, it’s not inherently wrong to want support during a diet. Partners help each other grow. But there’s a massive difference between support and servitude.
Support is:
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“Can we try making some healthy meals together this week?”
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“Would you mind grabbing some veggies at the store?”
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“I’ll handle lunch if you do dinner.”
Servitude is:
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“Make four meals for me while I do nothing.”
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“Meal prep every Sunday because I refuse to.”
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“Follow this diet I found on Instagram without question.”
If this is what pre-marriage looks like, imagine the honeymoon:
“Babe, we can’t have champagne. I’m intermittent fasting until 2031.”
📦 Prepping for a Better Future
Here’s a radical idea: If you want four meals a day at inconvenient times, cook them your damn self. Meal prepping isn’t a love language. It’s a job. A job that deserves appreciation, compensation, or—at the very least—not being taken for granted.
Relationships thrive when labor is shared, needs are communicated, and no one is expected to be both a life partner and an unpaid kitchen intern.
To the woman in question: You are not unreasonable. You are not selfish. You are not failing him by refusing to be a short-order cook in your own home.
You are drawing a boundary. And frankly, it sounds like it’s long overdue.
🧂 Final Sprinkle of Salt
Let’s wrap this up with a side dish of truth.
If your future husband is this demanding, dismissive, and uncooperative over something as basic as dinner, imagine how that’s going to scale once marriage, kids, finances, and real-life stressors hit.
You are not marrying a man. You’re adopting a high-maintenance, low-effort adult with the culinary autonomy of a potato.
Here’s hoping your wedding vows include the line, “In sickness and in health, but not in meal prep madness.”
Or better yet, here’s hoping you trade in the man and keep the air fryer.
Bon appétit.