Whew.  Last night.  W-H-E-W.

I don’t do well when backed into a corner.  I have to say that.  And goodLORD, please don’t look for a fight.

And if you instigate a fight in a dark room, while I’m in bed, and then you’re "not speaking" to me for half an hour, PUH-LEEZE do not get upset that I’ve fallen asleep.

So it was a rough night.  I really have the urge to talk about it, but I know that I have to learn what’s okay and not okay to share.  And everything’s fine now, it just was a wake-up call last night.  There are so many growing pains to this whole relationship thing.

Peanut butter cups.  That’s what started this whole week’s issues.  Friggin peanut butter cups.

THAT fight, I’ll talk about.

See, my momma and I went grocery shopping early last week, and one of the things that made it into my cart were those break-apart Tollhouse cookies.  I usually get the Turtle variety, but the nuts cook weird, and I wanted to try something different.  So I got chocolate chip cookies with minature peanut-butter cups on them.  They sound yummy, right?  RIGHT.

So, Sunday night, after I cooked dinner, Bryan decided he would pitch in by doing dessert.  This was lovely.  "I’ll bake cookies!" he said.  This was great.  So he went in, preheated the oven, and slapped those babies in there.  The smell soon brought me out, and when I walked into the kitchen, there sat the wrapper for the cookies,
covered in minature peanut-butter cups.

"Um, what’s that?" I asked.

"Those were the ones that fell off," he said. 

"Well, here, I’ll put them on the cookies."  This seemed like simple logic to me.  He would’ve done this if they had been chocolate chips.

"NO," he said.  "I don’t want them on there."

And I lost my shit.  Food is always an issue between us.  He is one of the pickiest eaters I’ve ever met, and I’ll eat anything put in front of me.  But I miss a lot of the foods that I used to eat and he won’t touch.  I feel like I’ve compromised a TON when it comes to food.. and I love food.  But I wasn’t gonna budge on these stupid peanut-butter cups.  This was my Alamo.

Remember the Alamo?

I took the cookies out and started placing the offending candies on top of them.  "NO," he said again, as if maybe I just hadn’t heard, "I DON’T LIKE PEANUT BUTTER CUPS ON MY COOKIES."

"JUST TRY THEM," I said through clenched teeth.

"NO." He growled.  I continued placing the horrid candies on the cookies.

"Here," I said, in a tone that I KNEW would get under his skin.. sickeningly sweet and condescending, as if he was a retarded child, "I’ll leave you two without them on there."

(Yes, I realize how stupid this sounds.  NOW.)

And I cooked them.

Did I win that one?  Or was I really stupid for starting it?

So that’s what started last night’s fury.  And he knew EXACTLY what my issue was/is.. I’m terrified of losing "me".  I feel like, over these past six months or so, I’ve been defined by things other than myself.. I’ve been "Bryan’s girlfriend" or "that bitch who ruined that girl’s life" or some other equally flattering names, but I feel like I haven’t been SarahBrown in a long time.  CC was GOING to fix that.  And now it’s not.

Which is fine.  I need to work harder to find something that will.

And, let’s face it.. maybe the peanut butter cups were a start.