I hate sharing food. When I eat, I’m hungry and I usually intend to finish everything on my plate. Really, I don’t like to share anything.
The black bottom cupcake.
One night several years ago (more like 4) boy and I spent the evening walking around Rockridge. We bought some desserts from that little pastry shop by Peabody’s before driving back to the Creek where, at the time, we lived together. I sat on the floor leaning against the couch and he was sitting on the couch and we watched TV in the dark eating our desserts. I offered him some of my cupcake before I finished it. And when he gave it back to me, all the cream cheese was GONE. He stripped the cupcake of the best part, the part I was saving for last, because it was the BEST PART!
In his defense, he thought I was offering him the rest because I didn’t want any more… (as if I’d ever not finish a cupcake?)
And I entered into one of those completely unjustified rages that had me throwing a temper tantrum and him offering to drive all the way back to buy me a cupcake and I narrowed my eyes and sharply said, “no. but you owe me.”
And since then, he cannot pick food off my plate. Ever. And when I divide desserts in half, if there is a slight size difference, I get the bigger piece. And if he looks away, damn straight I’m going for that raspberry in chocolate sauce on his plate. But if I see his fork near my honey chocolate crepe, he will be reminded of the cupcake. The one where he took the best part, and left me the crumbs.