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My friend wouldn't stop cooking for everyone.

And it's horrible. Nobody wants to tell her that she's bad at cooking.

About six months ago, I 30 female, moved across the country to a new state where I have a lot

of friends and family. I posted about my move on Facebook and Michael 32 male, a Facebook friend,

which an acquaintance I had met once or twice through other friends, reached out to tell me he happened to be moving to the same city. By the way, this comes from user's throwaway, a bunch of numbers, blah, blah, blah, blah. And if you want to submit your own stories, go to the R slash okay story time, separate it. I'm Dakota. I'm Angie. I'm Riley. And we're here to give you good advice goofily. But we don't know everything. I really know what we would do. So tell us what you would do in the comments. He asked if I would want to get together sometime. I agreed and after we had both moved and settled, we met up. We became friendly and started hanging out semi-regularly. I have a lot of friends and family in this state, as I mentioned, work also keeps me very busy, so I don't have a ton of free time.

Michael Moody. semi-regularly. I have a lot of friends and family in this state, as I mentioned. Work also keeps me

very busy, so I don't have a ton of free time. Michael moved here because he recently got a divorce.

He has an old friend in his 30s, male, who owns a house here, who agreed to rent him a room. They also

have a third roommate, also in his 30s. Michael does not have a job, so he has a lot of free time, and he is usually the one to initiate a room. They also have a third roommate, also in his 30s. Michael does not have a job, so he has a lot

of free time, and he is usually the one to initiate hangouts. So Michael loves to cook. The very first time

we got together, he came to my place and cooked dinner. The meal was okay, although it was dairy-based,

and I really don't eat dairy at all, so I felt pretty sick afterwards. I was also very specific about a certain ingredient that I don't really like, but he was insistent that he needed to use it for the dish. Whatever, no biggie. However, as time went on, every time Michael would invite me to hang out, he wanted to cook. Either he wanted to come to my place and cook, or he wanted me to come over and he would cook for me, and the roommates and their significant others. Each time I ate Michael's cooking, I began to think more and more that I really just could not stand it. The first time he cooked for me and his roommates, I noticed that everyone at the table was silent when eating, and no one else commented on the food until he would eagerly ask, how is it? And get some sort of lackluster praise.

He did this at least three times during the meal.

The worst time, probably, was the time no one could finish their plate, and everyone made

excuses for why they were just so full they couldn't finish the meal.

After that incident, whenever Michael would invite me to hang out, I would try suggesting

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