Poison for Dinner, Anyone?

How do you tell your boyfriend he can't cook, and that you'd rather eviscerate yourself with a rhinocerous horn than eat another one of his "specialties"?

I kid you not, his "eggplant parmesan" was the absolute most dreadful experiment in oil-soaked mushy eggplant, sans flavor, sans breading, and sans parmesan that I've even choked down in my life.

And this was our "anniversary" meal. Goddess help me, I thought I would die. Twice he's asked me if I liked it... and twice I've prevaricated along the lines of, "it's very different from the eggplant parmesan I've had before."

I would let this go as one of the relationship crosses I've had to bear, except he's told me that two lesbian friends of his are having a committment ceremony, and he's planning on "catering" (gasp, gag) their dinner with this..."food." I don't, in all conscience, know how I can allow him to ruin their special day with something so heinously bad. But I just don't know how I can tell him he can't cook.

I'm shuddering just thinking about all the leftovers that I have in the fridge. It's so nasty and vile, I don't even want to look at it in order to throw it out.

I know he thought he was doing a kind thing by cooking for our anniversary... but I really would have preferred to go out. Believe me, when he told me he decided he would cook, it took everything I had not to go and get the butcher knife and slit my wrists.