What’s Mine is Yours Except When it’s Not
He Said: I’ll admit it, sometimes I hate sharing. Call me childish, but sharing can ruin everything. I remember once offering my wife a beer. Her response, “No thanks, but I’ll split one with you.” I’ll split one with you? I’d rather not drink than split a beer. Six ounces of beer is just enough to piss me off. I’ll split a case if you’re up to it.
She Said: And that’s the major difference between men and women.
He Said: I’d would’ve gone with the whole penis, vagina thing, but I’m listening.
She Said: Sometimes it’s not about the actual item, it’s about the experience of sharing something special with our love. Plus, we’re not nearly as piggy as you guys, so if you make a sandwich so big you have to unhinge your jaw, what harm is there in asking for one bite?
He Said: Because just one bite ruins everything! We make a sandwich perfectly sized to accommodate our current hunger. Taking a bite ruins the whole “sandwich to starvation ratio.” But since I never put anything away in the kitchen, you can just go in there and make yourself that bite.
She Said: Even if I give you your petty sandwich theory, what about the other things? The stuff that’s for more than one. Why do you get so mad when I eat that?
He Said: I like my snacks. I buy good snacks. Snacks make me happy. You have your snacks and they are crap. Vanilla protein bars, raw almonds, South African kale, I don’t know. But you should be obligated to eat that and leave my stuff alone.
She Said: You can’t call dibs on groceries! Groceries are supposed to be shared.
He Said: Ah, but so is grocery shopping and any reader of our blog knows how that turns out. If I buy it, I eat it.
She Said: Oh, God, is this about the Trader Joe’s Wheat Crisps, isn’t it?
He Said: No! It’s about the Wheat Crisps and the hummus! They were my snack, mine! Then one night I come home and there you are with crumbs all over you, the little tub of hummus empty and forlorn. You know that phrase, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers? You would if they were YOUR crackers!
She Said: Here’s a solution, you greedy moron: buy two boxes of crackers and two containers of hummus. Snacks for everybody!
He Said: How about the HP Sauce? Huh? The best steak sauce in the world. I have to smuggle it in my underwear back from Canada, risking life, limb and sphincter. You’d barely heard of it, then one morning you see me putting on my eggs and you’re all, “Oh, I want to try some! It looks good and since there’s a limited supply and you can only get it at expensive specialty shops here, I should take it all.”
She Said: Barely heard of it. Really. Except for growing up in beautiful Burnaby, BC when my mom used it all the time. Read the slogan: “Everything Goes with HP.”
He Said: Doesn’t mean you have to slop it on like an albino applies suntan lotion. Floop, floop, floop. That’s you, using up all my sauce.
She Said: Fap, fap, fap. And that’s you, enjoying your new solo sex life. Perfect for the man who hates to share.
He Said: Wait, here, try some of my Thai-spiced, all-fat almonds. I’ll go eat some of the edamame you made me buy.
