Yep, burgers and whether or not to make them for dinner – the latest example of how selfish I am.
I’ve been doing pretty much all of the grocery shopping and cooking for the last three years. M said that he had lost his enthusiasm for cooking and was happy to let me take over.*
On Tuesday evening I asked him which of two meals he would prefer, as I was undecided. “A big, juicy burger!” was his reply. Needless to say, burgers was not even anywhere near the menu and I told him so. He refused to choose between the two dishes that we actually had ingredients for, leaving me to choose. You know I will always choose the wrong dish. Every. Damned. Time.
I made chili verde and a green salad. Pretty good meal, fairly healthy, and I like it a lot. Fuck him if he won’t express his opinion when asked.
Fast forward to Thursday morning. We’re laying in bed, I’m telling him that I will stop at the grocery store for burger supplies on my way home, and all hell broke loose.
Turns out he changed his mind about the burgers. You see, he’s trying to convince the world that he has some “serious health issues” where (I believe) none exist. He has been visiting doctors for some months now, assessing the general state of his health. At his last appointment, nothing was found that was negative, so the doc said that he could stand to lower his bad cholesterol, although it is only on the higher end of the “normal” range and he has no other indicators. He believes that if a doctor bothers to mention something, you should take it to heart and do anything you can to change the situation on your own before taking medication is necessary. Bear in mind that I do not go to the doctor with him, so I only hear what he wants to share with me.
Because of the warped way his mind works, he decided that this would be a good time to accuse me of trying to kill him with food – over his protests! He has been begging me to change the way I eat since we met and I only resent his good advice. He refuses to eat my unhealthy food – didn’t I listen when he told me what the doctor said? How can I be so selfish? How can I care so little for his health? My own health? The recommendations of a professional?
You get the picture. I left late for work, no food, no tea, in tears. Again.
By evening he had done an about face, claiming that he doesn’t want to fight with me, cares for me So Much, only wants what is best for us and our relationship, blah, blah, blah. He was full of menu suggestions (that I have been asking for, repeatedly, for years) and advice, for once friendly with no traces of sarcasm or condescension.
Whatever. These about-faces are just exhausting.
I know! I don’t have to put up with this shit, but my money is not available quite yet – waiting on news from the financial planner before I can do much in the way of moving forward. For now I wait, try to stay sane and not let my murderous thoughts take physical form…
* Not really. My Taking Over is a frequent topic of “discussion.” Not that he really wants to prepare meals, but it’s a good chance to point out how selfish I am.