Pasta SuperK

Honest:  Scrupulous with regard to telling the truth; not given to swindling, lying, or fraud.

So here's a marriage story for all of you in long term relationships or hoping to be in a long term relationship or avoiding a long term relationship like it's grim death . . . 

In all marriages there are tons of complicated dynamics playing out, the result of behavior and upbringing and constitution.  One of the dynamics that SuperK and I have to deal with is my tendency to want to control everything and the fact that I absolutely refuse to believe that I have this tendency to want to control everything.  Her childhood was a perfect example of shit flowing downhill: the youngest girl child in a family with a domineering drunk father and an emotionally absent drunk mother.  Plus, she doesn't take any shit from me.

One of the weird things that can cause tension in our family is my tendency to eat anything that is edible, non-toxic, and not tied down and locked up.  I'm a grazer.  The other night I was dishing up some pasta for dinner and put an amount in each of our bowls that I thought was appropriate.  SuperK thought I was a bit stingy with the pasta and that I was trying to control how much she was going to get to eat.  Believe it or not there was real tension earlier in our marriage over such instances but we've largely moved past it, partly because she understands that I'm not thinking about her when I eat something and partly because I offer to make the 5 minute drive to our grocery store to replace whatever it was that I've eaten and partly because she doesn't even want to eat the item that has been eaten, she just doesn't want me to take something that is rightly hers.  This can be particularly flammable if are splitting something, like a donut.

So she dished up a bunch more pasta and finished every bite.  The next morning she confessed that she was sick to her stomach all night because she ate way too much pasta.

"I was not going to give you the pleasure of being right," she confessed, to great hilarity from both of us.  "I was going to eat every goddamn bite of that pasta, if it killed me."

Y'all think 31 years under the same roof is always a piece of cake?  Or a bowl of pasta?