Can I Microwave Fingerling Potatoes?

Every time I eat scrambled eggs I think about how I can never get married.

This is something of a problem because I eat scrambled eggs at least four times each week, and because I would like to someday be married.

At least, I think I do. Sometimes I don't know about this whole marriage thing. In some ways I can picture it and it seems like what I want. I want to be in love with a good man (who loves me back) and be myself around him and have children with him. I genuinely want all that. I can imagine long, deep conversations, and also long and shallow ones that involve a lot of movie quotes. I can imagine falling asleep together in front of the TV, and I can imagine holding hands while watching the sun set.

But there are these other wifely things that I can't even begin to imagine, and this is where the eggs come in. I am a simple creature. As mentioned, I eat scrambled eggs for dinner probably four times each week. The other nights, I don't have scrambled eggs because I'm not eating dinner. I forget to eat ALL THE TIME. This seems like a problem for a wife. Like, there is someone else who lives in your house and would appreciate you making them dinner. And not scrambled eggs four times a week.

You guys, I don't cook. I don't know how to cook and it doesn't bother me because I live alone and I like scrambled eggs. But what happens if I'm lucky enough to meet an amazing man who for some reason thinks I'm pretty amazing too? How do I explain to him that I hope desperately that he likes scrambled eggs? What if he doesn't? What do we do? I'll have to buy groceries, too. I know how to do that, to the extent that my refrigerator currently contains Dr Pepper, mozzarella cheese, strawberry yogurt, four apples, two dozen eggs, and 27 water bottles. If I am someone's wife my refrigerator will have to have actual food in it, and it might not be food that I actually like. How can I justify spending good money on food I don't even like? I keep reminding myself that I will at least be having what I will euphemistically refer to as "relations" on a regular basis, which I hope will take the sting out of having to buy bacon and Sriracha.

My mother told me that I can learn to cook when I get married and that I will in fact want to cook for my husband. Apparently marriage involves some sort of personality change that I've not been warned about. Why would I want to learn how to cook for a husband? Isn't it enough that I'm going to be picking up his dirty socks and ironing his shirts and putting the toilet seat back down and pretending to care about his favorite football team?

I don't even love myself enough to cook for real. I never buy potatoes because do you know how long it takes to cook potatoes? I almost made progress a few weeks ago. I saw these tiny potatoes in the produce department and I thought, hey, tiny potatoes can probably go in the microwave. So I bought them. The bag called them fingerling potatoes. As soon as I got them home I turned to Google to figure out what to do with them.

I found a promising recipe right away but then when I read past the ingredients list, the first instruction I saw said, "Preheat oven ..." Preheat oven? Was this a joke? Broil? I don't care if I can broil them. Can I put them in the microwave? That's all I really want to know.

Every recipe I found was absolutely preposterous. EVOO? Pan sear? Who the hell are you people? These are tiny potatoes. The whole reason I bought them is because I thought they would cook faster than large potatoes. Who honestly wants to spend 45 minutes cooking tiny potatoes?

I changed my search to "Can I microwave fingerling potatoes" and I managed to stump the internet. People seemed aghast that anyone would want to microwave a potato. The consensus seemed to be that it was better to use the oven. So I gave up and put the potatoes in a cupboard where they promptly began growing eyes and feelers and I think they've got a proper civilization going in there, next to my cupcake pan. I'm letting them evolve for now but if I learn they're practicing fascism, they're going in the trash.

Maybe this whole marriage thing isn't for me. But that's okay. I don't need love to keep me warm. I have scrambled eggs for that.