“Why Kevin No Longer Tells His Wife What He Wants for Dinner”
“Hey, why dont you ever ask what Id like for dinner anymore?” Kevin asked his wife as he headed out to work one morning. “Or does it just not matter to you now?”
“I thought Id surprise you with something I fancied making,” replied Emily indifferently. “But if youd rather, I can cook something specific.”
“Thats not the point,” Kevin said. “Its not about wanting or not wanting. Its the principle. Is it really so hard to ask? Dont you even care?”
“Honestly? No,” Emily admitted. “Not one bit. Whats so interesting about it?”
“Oh, really?” Kevin scoffed. “Weve come to this, have we? You used to ask. So it *was* interesting back then!”
Emily paused.
*Hmm,* she thought. *Hes rightI did ask before. Awkward. Better ask now, or he wont let it go.*
“What would you like for dinner, then?” she asked.
Kevin smirked.
*Doing me a favour now, is she? Fine. No need to be a nag. Marriage is all about compromise, after all. Ill be the bigger manpatient, understanding. Not like Im some controlling brute. Got to forgive and forget, or whats the point of calling ourselves decent people?*
“Alright,” he said magnanimously. “How about some sausages?”
“What kind?” Emily asked. “Pork, beef, or lamb? Or I could do fish fingers if youd prefer.”
“Anything but fish fingers!” Kevin groaned. “Are you winding me up? You know Ive hated them since primary school.”
*Wrong move,* Emily thought. *Why did I say that? Hes told me a hundred times about choking on those awful fish fingers at school. Now hell harp on about it all day. All week, even. And lets not forgethe cant stand jelly either.*
“What about the sides?” she asked quickly. “Mash, chips, or rice? Maybe some peas?”
“Fry up some chips,” Kevin said. “Proper crispy ones, not soggy.”
“Of course, darling,” Emily replied sweetly. “Crispy it is.”
“Not that Im worried,” Kevin added smugly. “Youre the one who should be worried.”
*Why did I say that?* Kevin immediately regretted it. *Trying to act superior? Pointless. Still got a long way to go before Im a proper gentleman.*
“If its not too much trouble, love,” he softened his tone, “could you make a salad with tomatoes and cucumbers?”
“Absolutely, sweetheart,” Emily cooed.
“With garlic and parsley,” he reminded her.
“Garlic and parsley,” she repeated with a smile.
“And a dollop of mayo.”
“Mayo it is.”
“And fry the chips with onions too,” Kevin added.
“Whatever you fancy, dear.”
After a warm goodbye, Kevin left for work, but something nagged at him all day. Emily just wasnt acting right. He couldnt place it, but hed get to the bottom of it that evening. Maybe hed upset her without realising. Best sort it out before it festered.
At dinner, Kevin pushed his sausages and chips around his plate, watching Emily devour a crispy roast chicken. She slathered it in gravy, taking big, happy bites, grinning and winking at him between mouthfuls.
“Hold on,” Kevin said. “Why are you eating chicken? I thought we were having sausages.”
“Fancied roast chicken instead,” Emily said cheerfully. “When you said sausages, I realised I didnt want them. This is *so* goodgarlic and all. You should try it.”
“But I thought wed both be eating sausages,” Kevin mumbled.
*Oh, bless him,* Emily thought. *Assumed Id suffer through his dreary sausages. Why on earth would I?*
“Sorry, love,” she said, mouth full. “I just thoughtyou eat what you like, Ill eat what I like. Perfect, right?”
“Charming,” Kevin muttered. “Can I have some chicken too? Looks proper tasty.”
“Nope,” Emily said. “Made just enough for me. But youve got all the sausages, salad, *and* chips. Enjoy!”
“But youve got a whole drumstick left,” Kevin protested. “Ill share my sausages!”
“Thats mine,” Emily said firmly. “Made two for myself. Dont want your sausages. Eat up.”
Kevin forced down his meal, green with envy as Emily demolished the second drumstick. His throat tightened with every crunch she took.
“I left the skin extra crispy,” Emily announced. “Absolute heaven. Youve no idea.”
“I can imagine,” Kevin sighed, forcing a smile as he finished his last bite.
Next morning, as he left for work, Kevin eyed Emily carefully.
“What would you like for dinner tonight, darling?” she asked sweetly.
“Roast chicken,” Kevin said firmly. “Dreamt about the damn thing all night. Make it just like yours. No sidesjust gravy.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Emily agreed.
At dinner, Kevin picked at his chicken, appetite gonebecause Emily was tucking into a steaming lamb stew.
“Best when its piping hot,” she said happily. “Could eat this forever. Loved it since I was a kid.”
All week, Kevin endured Emilys culinary surprises. The final straw was fried whitebait.
“I want some too,” he whined.
“Why didnt you say this morning?” Emily shrugged. “I made you pork chops for nothing.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Kevin grumbled. “A hint wouldve been nice.”
“Didnt know myself till I fancied it,” Emily said.
“Just give me a bite,” he begged.
“Not a chance,” she said sternly. “What would I eat? Your chops? No thanks.”
Next morning, as she saw him off, Emily asked what hed like for dinner. Kevin just shook his head.
“Nope,” he said. “Not falling for that again, love. Had your fun. Whatever you make for yourself, make double for me too.”
From that day on, Kevin never told Emily what he wanted for dinner again.
