On my wedding day, as my mom was helping me get dressed, she paused for a moment and said “I can’t believe you’re marrying a man who doesn’t like Salmon.”
I couldn’t believe it either, honestly, but I decided to overlook that small detail and still say “I do” once I reached the end of the aisle, only an hour or so later.
Also on the list of things that Brad and I disagree on:
canned tuna J yes · B no
watching television = r&d for design trends J yes · B no
adventure honeymoons J no · B yes
brussel sprouts J yes · B no
cheese is the 5th food group J no · B yes
atkins J no · B yes
best salad dressing is olive oil & lemon juice J yes · B no
whoever cooks, the other one cleans J yes · B when it suits him
However, more devastating than salmon, more unfathomable than an aversion to relaxing honeymoons… we have pickles.
To be clear, I am for. Brad is against.
This might seem trivial, but let me tell you that more than one fight has been initiated by said item.
It would not be unreasonable to hear my husband cough, clear his throat, and utter strong words of distaste and possibly even throw up in his mouth a little, when he hears the pickle jar open up at the other end of the house. While not a daily ritual, I certainly would be remiss if a week went by without a briny little treat!
So, honey, this post is for you. I saw someone walking down the street in this shirt last week and I want you to know that you are not alone.
This in no way means I believe you are right, and this for certain does not mean I will stop buying pickles or eating them, but you have a friend out there. Two, actually, if you count the other sad sack who invented this shirt!
You just don’t know what you’re missing…