Recipe for Love [TG] - Prologue

Oliver has spent his life coasting; sweet talking his way into relationships so that he never had to do more than his fair share. But when he is karmically changed into a woman, things change. He gets a job at a local restaurant and finds himself not only finally learning how to cook and look after himself, but falling in love with the chef as well.

Prologue

It was not a dramatic breakup. There were no raised voices, no shattering plates, no storming out with a suitcase swinging wildly behind. Just a sigh, a soft declaration, “I can’t keep doing this, Oliver”, and the unmistakable sound of keys being dropped on the counter.

Oliver barely looked up from the couch. He blinked at her, as if her words hadn’t quite landed, or maybe as if he thought they were part of a longer sentence. But they weren’t. Elise had said what she needed to say, and when he didn’t respond, at least not with anything more than a scoff, she walked out the door, coat in hand, leaving behind the half-washed dishes, the scent of the curry she’d made the night before, and the man who had, yet again, found the boundary of someone else’s patience.

Now, flopped back on the threadbare couch he never cleaned, Oliver stared at the ceiling like it owed him answers. He was irritated, not sad, not broken, just annoyed, like someone who discovered his phone charger was missing and now had to get up to look for it. He didn’t appreciate being inconvenienced.

She could have talked to him about it, he thought. Really talked instead of just calling it quits and walking out. What Oliver didn't realise was that Elise had talked. So, Mia and Tasha had before her. Different faces, same end. They all eventually tired of the way Oliver lived: perpetually drifting, anchored to nothing but his own comfort. He was the type of guy to shrug his shoulders, totally clueless as to why all his relationships failed, as if it was some mysterious occurrence that had nothing to do with him. 

He hadn’t lived alone since he was eighteen. He’d left his mother’s house with a duffel bag and a grin, crashing on his buddy Nate’s futon. When that got awkward, he started dating the barista from the café near his community college. When she moved cities, he moved with her. He floated through life relying on partners and friends to prop him up. One led to the next. One soft bed to another. One hot meal to another.

Words came to him easily. Oliver knew how to be interesting. He knew how to listen just long enough. How to be vulnerable just convincingly enough. He found girlfriends, one after another, who mistook charm for sincerity and took him in, fed him, made their lives revolve around him. He was always “between jobs,” “about to get serious,” “just in a rough patch.” He always said the right things at the right time, until he didn't. 

That plan had worked a treat for several years. But now, at thirty-four, the spell was wearing thin.

He tried to scroll through his phone to distract himself from his rumbling stomach, but it was no help. Social media just reminded him of all the people who had outpaced him. Jobs. Marriages. Kids. Even Nate, his old futon buddy, had a second child on the way. Oliver grimaced; at least he didn’t have a little brat following him around. Small blessings. 

He heated up the last of the leftover curry without much fanfare, flopped back down on the couch, and propped up his phone to watch movies on the coffee table. He chewed through the curry with a blank look on his face. Maybe Elise leaving wasn't a bad thing, he told himself; her cooking wasn’t exactly stellar. 

Oliver did what he always did: He told himself he would have broken up with his girl next week anyway and moved on without much fanfare. By the time he went to bed that night, he’d already made plans to charm that sweet checkout chick at the local supermarket. She seems to know a thing or two about food. Even if she was a little plain, at least he’d be well fed in the coming months. 

~

Oliver had natural luck about him, which is cruel on the universe's part. You see, being naturally lucky seems like a good thing, at least to most people. What most people don't realise, though, is that natural luck only takes you so far; like good looks, it all runs out after a while. So while Oliver was on the average side of handsome, with decent charisma and a good smile, he wasn't nearly attractive or charming enough to rely on them forever. 

Now that he was in his thirties, age was slowly taking its toll, bringing him down to middling in looks and, as a result, what had once been charming now came across as creepy. 

Which is why, after a week of solid flirting, Oliver was completely taken aback when the cute checkout girl had him removed from her supermarket. He’d assumed they’d be together by now; that’s what had always happened in the past. Instead, he found himself barred from his local supermarket for ‘leering’ and ‘inappropriate behaviour’.

“All I did was flirt,” he pouted, “They’re acting like I touched her or something…”

As usual, it was everybody else with the problem. When Oliver had a problem, he would blame anybody but himself. This was probably his greatest flaw, and what made the universe decide it was time for a change. 

You see, like luck, the universe can be a fickle thing. Call it God, karma or whatever, sometimes some strange consciousness out in the cosmos somewhere decides it's time to change the rules. It only happens once in a blue moon; in fact, blue moons are one of those events. If you ever see something strange happen that can’t be explained by science, it’s probably the universe having a fickle day. Which is why, the day his bank account hit zero and he was set to be thrown out by his landlord, Oliver woke up as a woman.