Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Blueberry Pop-Tarts, Tampons, and Longfellow

Pop-Tarts are the ultimate in comfort food to me. They remind me of the good parts of my childhood -- doughy, sweet, hard and cold and artificial remnants of the 1970s. My husband knows I consider Pop-Tarts a major treat despite how disgusting and unhealthy they are in actuality. He also knows the one flavor I hate is blueberry. I hate blueberry flavored anything and everything.

I always hated jelly beans. I'm coming around to jelly beans a little in my old age. Now that I have dentures, the super-sweet tacky sugary gum doesn't stick to my cavities and cause me pain, but still, they don't appeal to me much. Jelly beans are not a candy I will buy.

So he got a box of Pop-Tarts yesterday. Blueberry. And gave me an entire bag of jelly beans. Said it was all mine. I shake my head at his passivity, his helplessness, his death-by-a-thousand-cuts. How helpless must one human being feel in order to consistently execute these mini-insults? I don't feel insulted because he bought Blueberry Pop-Tarts, but I do feel insulted because he chooses to fight in such a backhanded manner.

He literally believes he is overflowing with generosity and thinks of me always. His perception is such that I am ungrateful, unappreciative of his lovingkindness. If I were a vengeful person, I would reciprocate and purchase a box of tampons for him next time I go to the store.

Last night, he posted on Facebook the following quote:

"I want to put this in the simplest terms I can...I want to be loved in the same capacity that I am able to give love to another. I want to be able to rest in this, and grow old in it as well, if I must."...Longfellow.

I posted (then deleted it because I didn't want to initiate Armagedon. After all, why would someone deign to bring a wordfight to a writer??):
I don't know about Longfellow, but you have been loved so much more deeply than that, I do not know why you would set your sights so low.

I have begged him since 1999 to read my blog. He told me he has zero interest in what I write, and Time has borne the truth of that statement. So it goes.

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