The 'Too Good' Trap

When I was dating, a backhanded compliment followed me, leaving an unpleasant taste in my mouth. To cope, I wrote a poem about it:

Without the Adverb

"You're too good for me," said he,
Too young and long I've heard these words.
"Too good": a contradiction without clear vision.
Am I meant to take it as a compliment?
It feels like cold cement lathered to numb the heart,
To build a wall to mask a fall.
Each time these words raise insecurities.
If I am too good, should I be less good?
So good, less good, too good.
I hope for the day someone might say,
"You're good for me."
Too often, the adverb ruins it.

One aspect I love about working in the food industry is being surrounded by people who celebrate joy through food. When you take a bite of something that changes your world, it elicits a physical reaction. Your eyes widen, cheeks tighten in anticipation of the next bite, and your eyes roll in satisfaction. Sometimes, when food is truly exceptional, we find it difficult to speak, as our bodies know to savor the moment. Whether it's the enticing aroma wafting through the air, the vibrant colors that captivate our senses, or the exquisite flavors that dance on our tongues, food has a way of creating unforgettable moments. You deserve someone who lights up like a chef biting into the best chocolate chip cookie they've ever experienced.

I understand that cooks are known for their judgment. We are trained to critique food for improvement and growth. However, something chefs recognize clearly is that there is no such thing as being "too good." We celebrate good food, understanding that adverbs like "too" can often dilute the beauty of genuine admiration.

This phrase has the power to sow seeds of doubt and insecurity. We should not be defined by being "too" anything. We are perfect in our own unique ways, and we don't have to be everyone's favorite cookie. Just as someone's preference for chocolate chip cookies doesn't diminish the goodness of other delectable treats, our worth isn't diminished by someone's inability to fully appreciate us.

I find solace in knowing that I have the ability to bring joy, happiness, and satisfaction to those who genuinely appreciate and understand me. The absence of an adverb can make all the difference, allowing the beauty of our true selves to shine through, unburdened by comparisons or limitations.

To my fellow tough cookies, if someone tells you that you're "too good," whether in a platonic or romantic way, understand that they, too, are not good for you.