See, reality is: I don't want to hear Sam's dinner ideas when I ask for them.
Let me give you a taste of our meal planning conversations:
I ask. Sam pauses, scratches his chin, hums the latest tune stuck in his head, and generally responds with one of two meals: Pizza or Nachos. (Oh, and don't forget the hybrid Nacho Pizza!) I raise my eyebrows, quickly lower them because I realize I appear condescending, and ask if there are any other dishes he can think up. Most of the time, I end up plopping my face into my crossed arms on the table after a long sigh. Twenty minutes of brainstorming together ends with me requesting that he stop making suggestions.
Bless his little heart. He was only doing what I asked! But, why did I even ask in the first place?
Did I really want help?
I think that, deep down, I ask him if he has any ideas for meals just so he knows that I actually do something with my days. If I never asked (or made a big deal of meal-planning), he wouldn't know how much effort I put in. I mean, c'mon...I gotta pull my weight around here. And sadly, my pride is too big to go unnoticed.
That's why I ask.
