I'm sure this happens to many people.
You're asleep, in the midst of an awful nightmare. You finally wake up and you're shaking because you're so terrified. You wake up your husband just to get a grasp on reality. Then you start to recount your nightmare.
When you start to say it out loud, it doesn't sound so bad. It really stops being scary when you mention that you were hanging out with Dora the Explorer and The Cat in the Hat.
Point being, those dreams feel so much scarier when you're actually asleep. Once you talk about it out loud, it loses its fear factor.
Well, today I got home after a relatively long day and Tom had made dinner for all of us. It was such a relief - I was very hungry and Abby was ready to eat as well.
I sit down and fill my plate. It's then that I look down and see the pasta he made sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. I'm really not a fan of Parmesan cheese. In fact, I hate Parmesan cheese unless it's blended in with a meat or something like that where you can't really taste its pungency.
I can honestly say that in the seven and a half years Tom and I have been together, I have mentioned to him that I don't like Parmesan cheese at least a dozen times. He continues to sprinkle it on pasta.
I'm miffed. I start to pout.
Me: "Is there Parmesan cheese on this?"
Me: "I hate Parmesan cheese."
It was at this point that an utterly ridiculous conversation/argument ensued. We went back and forth.
Tom: "I saw Parmesan cheese on the counter last week! You asked me to get it for you! I know you like it!"
Me: "I used it for the turkey for Abby! I don't like it!"
That was when I came up with the ultimate (and unbelievably pathetic) statement.
Me: "I just see you remembering these things as a sign of love for me."
That's when Tom got really annoyed.
After he tried to make polite conversation, he finally said, "I mean, really? You're trying to tell me I don't love you because I put Parmesan cheese on the pasta?! Would you like me to make you new pasta? I can. I can make you Parmesan-cheese-free pasta."
Game, set, match, Tom.
I can now look back on this and laugh. And I will try to properly communicate my food preferences from here on out.
And don't think I won't weave in a dish I know Tom doesn't "care for" just to see how he handles it.