Everyone told me the day would come. That day when, for the first time, my beloved would push me over the edge.
“Did he burn down your apartment?” you ask. No.
“Did he gamble away all your savings?” you ask. No.
“Did he kick your dog?” you ask. No (not that I currently own one, but I hope to, which is another blog post for another time).
“Did he murder your entire family and make it look like an accident and flee to South America to rendezvous with his secret mistress?” you ask. No.
But it’s worse, friends. Much worse.
Friday afternoon, I got off work early and went home to eat a late lunch. Because I typically treat myself on Fridays, I decided to partake in a candy bar that had sat patiently atop the microwave waiting for me to devour it all week: a Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bar.
This particular Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bar had an interesting past, enriched with love. My cousin Jason, who often gets samples of companies’ merchandise through his work, heard I was visiting my parents the weekend before the forthcoming atrocity I’m about to reveal to you. Upon my arrival, he gifted me with two Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bars, specifying one as being for me, the other for Cory. We had a good laugh at his insistence that I share, because why would I ever eat something that was designated for Cory? I shared this news with Cory when I returned to Bowling Green and giggled at his exaggerated look of shock when I told him only one was for him. He scarfed it down soon thereafter.
Back to Friday afternoon. I tossed the garbage from my lunch into the trash can and prepared to lift my eyes to the top of the microwave and see the Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bar greeting me.
Instead, a crinkling wrapper disturbed by my lunch refuge beckoned to me from the trash can. I looked in. And I saw it.
An empty wrapper, brown in color. Its missing contents included chocolate, bits of cookie and, yes, caramel.
Only one person had been in my apartment the day before. My betrothed, my intended, light of my life: Cory.
The man to whom I am preparing to pledge my life had done the unthinkable. He had stolen my chocolate and blatantly left the evidence for me to discover.
My thumbs flew in a rage across my cell phone, typing words that I hoped conveyed my feelings of betrayal.
Did you eat my Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bar?!
That was MINE. Jason gave me one and you one. You already ate yours!
I am not happy.
You’re buying me another one. Tonight.
And thus my insanity reared itself.
I settled on gorging myself on chocolate covered pomegranates until Cory arrived at my apartment so we could go switch the utilities over for our new house (another post, another time, I promise). When he got there, without a word, he brandished a plastic bag upside down over me where I sat on the couch and showered me with not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bars.
In the interest of full disclosure and not wishing to be an unreliable narrator, I’ll tell on myself. I was still so miffed about Cory eating my candy the day before without my knowledge that I declared, “I’m not sharing ANY of these!”
I thank God that He sent me a man who will laugh at me when I don’t have sense enough to laugh at myself, because that’s exactly what Cory did after my mini-tantrum.
After I’d calmed down, I asked him what could have possessed him to take something that belonged to me. (Like it usually is with us ladies, fellas, an argument or our anger is never about what it seems to be about; it’s about the principle of the thing.)
“Did he say he didn’t think you’d notice?” you ask. No.
“Did he say you need to lose a few pounds anyway?” you ask. No – he’s still alive, isn’t he?
“Did he say he had temporary amnesia and thought he was in a place where any and all chocolate was communal?” you ask. No.
He said, “I thought they were both for me.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the accused may not be innocent of the crime, but he is simply forgetful. Cory may be a lot of things, but malicious is not one of them.
So what’s the moral of this story? There could be several. Such as, “Hide your valuables better,” or, “Don’t pitch a fit when you’re 26 years old.” But I think the moral I like the most is, “Don’t get so worked up over the small stuff that your partner eventually thinks you’re crying wolf every time you get upset.” It hit me afterward that flying off the handle over relatively insignificant matters – or matters to which I don’t yet know the whole story – does me no favors as my relationship with Cory continues.
As my mom and other married folks have warned me, there will be times when I am truly upset, just beside myself, and not in the tongue-in-cheek, hyperbolic way in which I’ve crafted this post. There will be times when I’ll need Cory to understand how upset I am and why, and if I’ve wasted my energy for years on stuff like missing candy bars, what reason would he have to believe me? That’s not saying anything against him. That’s on me.
I’m not a perfect person, and neither is he, but there are things I know I can work on about myself – effort I can put into this relationship and soon-to-be marriage – that will strengthen us.
Oh, and I did offer to share the Hershey’s Caramel Cookie Layer Crunch bars after all.
*Disclaimer: The Hershey Company has neither offered nor given the writer any form of compensation for extensive use of its name and product, and any appearance of such action is purely coincidental; though the writer would enjoy being paid in chocolate at such time the Hershey Company sees fit to do so.