#TBT That Fight We Had

I’m looking through drafts of blog posts because I’m trying to find a link to an article I read once, and I was sure it would be in here, but it isn’t BUT I did find this gem from way back in the day. I don’t remember this ‘fight,’ but I made myself laugh all over again which is all that matters.

It was one of those days when I had decided that I was done with McDonald’s. Done, I tell you. No more of that filth would be entering the temple I call my body.

By 10pm that same day I was hungry. Hungry for a Big Mac. However, even I have limits no I don’t on what hours I will go out to fill a McD’s craving. I was planning to just sleep through the urge.

Mark: I’m hungry.

Me:  Me too. But I’m not in the mood to get up. We’re starving tonight, buddy.

Mark: Ok.

(a few minutes later)

Mark: I think Kevin went to McDonald’s…

Me: Call him! Call him and tell him to get us food!

In counseling, I like for couples to repeat back what they hear each other say.

Readers, what did you hear me say in that last sentence?

“Call him! Call him and tell him to get US food!”

Thank you.

Mark: Ok. (calls Kevin) Hey, man, are you still at McDonald’s? Great, can you get me a #1?

Me: Yeah, I want a #1, too!

This is where it gets bad.

Mark: (covers the phone) I only have a few dollars-

My eyes got bigger and I gasped. Then his eyes got big and then he gasped.

I was just denied a Big Mac. By my husband. The man who vowed to protect AND FEED ME til death do we part.

The betrayal. The heartache. The tears. THE EMPTY STOMACH.

Me: (chilly silence)

Mark: (to Kevin) Ok, man, I’ll see ya in a little bit. (to me) I’m so sorry! You can have it when he gets here. I just didn’t have enough cash on hand to pay him back… Marie? Please talk to me.

What I said
Me: No, it’s fine. I decided not to eat McDonald’s anymore anyways. This was just God intervening. No, seriously, I’m fine. You can have it.

What I meant
Me: You loser. I can’t believe you chose YOURSELF over your HUNGRY WIFE! How can I ever trust you again? How do I know you’ll make sure that my special sauce intake stays regular, huh? HUH?

Mark: Ok. I really am sorry.

At this point I really was fine. Sure, I was a little hungry and was imagining the smell of warm french fries, but fine nonetheless.

Then the food got there, and a mixture of hunger and anger consumed me once more.

Me: I just… I just… How am I supposed to know that you’re looking out for me? For my well-being?

Mark: Seriously, you can have the hamburger.

Me: No, this isn’t about OMG that Big Mac sure does look tasty a burger. This is a matter of principle. Of knowing that you are going to put me first. That you’re going to take care of me. If I can’t even get first dibs on a burger then how do I know what you’d do if there was just one life jacket on The Titanic?

Mark: We aren’t on the Titanic-


Mark: Oh, I thought that was where you were going…

Me: Just eat your stupid burger.

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