The Peanut Butter.
Before we moved in together, I lived alone in a very cute apartment in South County, RI. He came over one night after work and we made a trip to the grocery store. As we unpacked the bags, I told him I had a very strange habit once I developed a crush on someone. It was silly and childish, yet I was still doing it.
It involved peanut butter.
“If I buy a new jar of peanut butter, I peel back the foil and use the tip of a knife to write in the name of the person I have a crush on.”
He looked at me with an amused grin.
“You do? Really?”
I blushed. “Yes, I do. I know it’s a weird habit. But I keep doing it.”
“Have you ever written my name?” He poked me gently in the ribs.
“Yes.” Face on fire now. Why was I telling him this? I sounded ridiculous.
We finished putting away the groceries.A few nights later, as I was alone in my little apartment, I reached up into the cabinet and grabbed the new jar of peanut butter. Knife in hand, I unscrewed the lid and prepared to etch his name. I smiled to myself at the goofiness of it all.
I lifted off the lid and the knife clattered to the countertop. I couldn’t help myself from smiling and my eyes filled with tears.In the top of my new jar of peanut butter, he had written my name.
He inspired me to start this blog and he supports every bit of this adventure. He moved away from home with me so I could pursue a career at dLife. (He even helps me check for typos.) He makes me laugh every day. And he tolerates my idiot cats.
He is my best friend and I love him dearly.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Chris.
I still write your name in the peanut butter.