In my old life, I had a husband who didn't consider it a meal unless it had meat, potatoes, two vegetables, bread, and dessert. That got old, especially when I didn't feel well, the kids were sick, etc. (We get along okay now)

Now I have a husband who is happy with whatever's plopped in front of him (with a few exceptions, and I don't plop those things). And if I can't do it at all, he says "That's okay, I'll have cereal." He likes frozen pizza, frozen dinners, beans and weenies, egg sandwiches.

I do cook "real food" once in a while, a macaroni and cheese, chicken, or whatever. But I never feel as though I HAVE to. If I lived alone (God forbid) I don't know how much my eating habits would change. I'd probably eat WORSE because I'd be lonely, and nobody would be watching if I scarfed down a whole pizza or whatever. Pint of Ben and Jerry's.