One of the many things Husband and I do not agree on is ice cream.
Yes, we’ve addressed the temperature issue before but don’t worry—we’re not into reruns yet. This is about flavor, which some might argue is even more important since it cannot be corrected once you’ve left the store.
First off, let’s agree right now that nuts and raisins have no place in ice cream; we literally cannot continue this discussion otherwise. Marshmallows, M&M’s, and chips of just about any variety are fine but if you put gummy candy in ice cream you are a person who doesn’t understand the thermal properties of gelatin and are to be pitied.
The following story has nothing whatsoever to do with the preceding paragraph; I just needed to get that off my chest and filter out the heretics.
Because we are grown-ups and no one can tell us no, we sometimes keep ice cream in the house. When Husband goes to the store (alone, for established reasons) he will get a quart of the fat-free frozen yogurt that I like and a couple pints of various Ben & Jerry’s flavors for him. Because he has appalling taste in ice cream, I am always sad when I put the groceries away (he shops and I put it away; that’s called division of labor).
HIM: I’m gonna go get my ice cream.
ME: Why don’t I get ice cream?
HIM: You can have ice cream too.
ME: But what if I want your ice cream?
HIM: You can have my ice cream if you want.
ME: But you specifically get vile flavors so I won’t want it.
HIM: If you really want, I will make the sacrifice and give up my ice cream for you. Because I love you that much.
ME: What if I want it so I can throw it away because it’s disgusting and no one should eat it?
HIM: Then you don’t really want it, so no.
ME: I do want it. I want it so I can destroy it. Who are you to say what I can do with my ice cream?
HIM: I’ll go get you a bowl of your ice cream while I’m getting mine.
ME: What flavor is it?
HIM: Butt nugget Garcia.*
ME: See? That’s horrible and you should be ashamed of encouraging them in their evil works!
A week or two after that night, I was putting groceries away when I found he’d again gotten two pints of B&J for himself: something disgusting with peanut butter and my second favorite flavor of all time, Americone Dream.
I made puppy dog eyes at Husband, whispered a husky “later” to the pint, and continued putting the groceries away. Then I thought nothing more about it.
For two whole nights.
HIM: I’m gonna get ice cream.
HIM: (sighs) Do you want ice cream?
ME: … Yes?
HIM: (drops head, defeated) Do you want Americone Dream?
ME: (sniffs) Only if you want to share it.
ME: (offers giant, pitiful eyes)
HIM: (sighs) I’ll go get the ice cream.
And then, in a truly impressive display of willpower, I complied with the recommended serving size.
Mostly. I handed the other half back to Husband, pleased with my restraint; my second favorite flavor and I didn’t even steal the whole pint!
Then, the other night…
HIM: I’m gonna go get ice cream. Do you want?
ME: Yes please.
HIM: Do you want the rest of the Americone Dream?
ME: No, some of my fro-yo will be fine. You can finish the Americone Dream.
HIM: No, you can finish it.
ME: … Are you not going to finish it because I ate out of it?
ME: Oh my—
HIM: I know!
ME: We’re married!
HIM: I know, it’s insane. We share all the germs and we’ve shared foods and drinks before, but somehow the fact that you put the spoon in your mouth and back into the container…
ME: You’ve literally licked the inside of my mouth. And my vagina. But you can’t share a pint of ice cream with me?
HIM: … No?
HIM: I’ll go get the ice cream.
* Cherries are the devil’s butt nuggets.
** Actually, second place is a tie between Americone Dream and the now-retired Late Night Snack (which they should bring back to replace Tonight Dough). My all-time favorite, since you didn’t ask—which only proves you had no intention of finding it for me and don’t think I won’t remember that slight when your birthday rolls around—is Phish Food. Preferably the fro-yo Phish Food. Ben, Jerry, please get to work on a non-dairy version of Phish Food so I can drown myself in it. P.S. I love you and always will.