When I graduated high school I went to college at Arkansas State University. It wasn't that far from home but it was still away from home. The first year of college I lived in the dorm with my best friend from high school. Though I didn't go home a lot, I did go home at about once a month. Money, laundry and cooking were needed.
The first weekend I went home, my mom asked, "Do you want your favorite meal?" "Sure," I replied. I wasn't really sure what my favorite meal was, but I figured she knew me better than I knew myself so I just considered it a surprise.
For the record, I don't think I like surprises.
My first weekend home from college and I learned what my mom thought my favorite meal was. Pork chops and corn. She thought I loved either fried/baked/seared pork chops and some variation of corn. Don't get me wrong, it's good stuff, but was it my favorite? Sometimes it's better to just smile and eat, so I enjoyed the home-cooked meal since it wasn't college food and didn't think much of it.
Until I went home again. Again, we had my favorite meal. And we did thereafter for the next two years when I'd visit. So for two years, I just acted like it was. I didn't really care. I liked it well enough, but if I was given a choice then I would have probably picked something else.
During my last semester year of college I finally became brave enough to tell the truth. One weekend I had gone home and they hadn't cooked my favorite meal. My mom said she was sorry for not cooking it and that's when I fessed up.
"Mom, you know that's not my favorite meal, right?" - Me
"What? We thought you loved that. That's why we always cooked it!" - Mom
"No. It's really not. It's good an all, but it's not my favorite." - Me
And there hasn't been pork chops and corn since.
The moral of this story, it might have been better to be honest in the beginning.