It's pot luck. I understand this, it is reasonable, it just doesn't fit my life.
I don't cook. I barely prepare food at all; it just isn't worth the effort. I don't have the sensory apparatus to appreciate much of anything, and I don't really get hungry (I think was over 30 the first time in my life I ever felt a sensation that I identified as hunger). So given a choice between preparing food and going hungry, I'll go hungry.
Beyond that... Making food for other people requires creativity, and I just don't have it to spare. Really. I live my life as mechanically as possible so that I don't have to actually apply creative thought to day to day problems; I have my closet organized to chose my clothing for me. I try to live my life so that the vanishingly small creative impulses I do get go into my writing, where they have some small hope of being moderately worthwhile.
My friend and I will work this out; I am perfectly willing (and at this scale, able) to use money to make up what I lack in creativity and energy. It's just that sometimes the fundamental absurdity of my existence is REALLY frustrating...