When I met my husband it was love at first sight. Even though we were very different people from very different backgrounds, we didn’t care. Like a monster truck roaring down the highway, tossing rational thought to the backseat and empty beer cans out the windows, our love was YEEEEHHAAAWWW!!! Days flew into weeks, weeks into months, and before we knew it, we were getting married. Yet despite our commitment there remains one fundamental difference between my husband and I. Something few couples can resolve without tension, especially when children come along.
I’m ashamed to admit this, but for years I’ve tried to convert him. I know it’s wrong to foist your opinions onto anyone – let alone the person you hold most dear. But I simply can’t understand why he doesn’t feel the same way I do. How he can’t see the beauty in the light! The purity, the wholesomeness. The divine deliciousness of mayonnaise. That cloudlike concoction of whipped oil and egg, the condiment that elevates a humble sandwich to celestial heights. You wouldn’t think something so creamy could be so divisive. But when a person has devoted years of their life to something as important as a choice of condiment, it’s bound to cause trouble when the spouse isn’t on board. The problem? My husband HATES mayo. And I’m a homeowner on Hellmann’s Hill.
Ooooh how I LOVE mayonnaise! And have for as long as I can remember. The look of it, the smell of it, the touch and taste of it brushing past my lips to my tongue. Just thinking about it now is making my mouth water. Even on my low sodium diet, I simply cannot say no. I know I should, I try to limit my consumption. But whereas normal people keep a normal size jar in the fridge, this is how I roll:
GALLON SIZE, BABY!
Now don’t be a hater. If you, like my husband, don’t feel mayonnaise is pure ecstasy, that’s okay by me. Feel free to pass that little plastic cup of yours on over. I like EXTRA. When our daughters came along I wondered on which side of the fence they’d fall. And as luck would have it, we got one of each. My older daughter hates mayo with a passion. My younger eats mayonnaise sandwiches: mayo and bread. She may even like mayonnaise slightly more than me, but as a fellow devotee, I understand.
The reason I am writing this mayo post is NOT b/c we are out of mayo. Heaven forbid! No, we restocked last month and we’ve still got a little ways to go:
It’s because of this mayo “issue” between my husband and I. You see, he’s a mustard man. I like mustard, really I do, but it’s not mayo. And even though I know my husband detests mayonnaise, I am constantly trying to get him to fall in love with it like I am. So I try to slip it in things when he’s not paying attention. Today he caught me fixing some sandwiches for him and spreading the rye bread with mayo. Just a thin spread – almost undetectable – and only on the one slice, but he caught me. And yelled. And then stormed out the door. When he came back in I made my “sad face” at him and apologized. He hugged me and said it’s frustrating not being able to eat a sandwich the way he likes it. Especially when he’s told me, oh, 6,703 times he doesn’t like mayonnaise. But deep down in my heart I just KNOW he’ll love it.. one day.
