I glare at him as he puts the cheese on the cracker, a little bit of hummus on top of that. My eyes are hot as he takes a bite. I am furious. Absolutely raging.
My anger is irrational, I know. (As my mother would say I’m perfectly old enough, and ugly enough, to make my own cheese cracker.) But this doesn’t matter. It’s the audacity.
I’m angry because I’m thinking about consideration. And how that person just completely failed to wonder if I was hungry. If I might like a cheese cracker. If I, too, might feel like some mushed up chickpeas and a slice of cheese.
“What?” he says. I bark back a response. Harsh. Angry. He knows I’m angry but doesn’t understand why because, really, it is just a cheese cracker.
I don’t think I even understand.
But we argue. And we go around in circles. And we argue some more. And finally I leave and I still haven’t eaten a cheese cracker.
Psychologists might suggest that the cheese cracker is not the issue here. That there is some deeper problem. That I’m really insecure about my appetisers. Or I have an ever-lasting fear of never-having-enough-snacks (the struggle is real).
“Often those pettiest of arguments are a symptom of unfulfilled needs, deeply rooted fears and insecurities. and unexpressed feelings,” relationship therapist Effy Blue told Broadly. “Instead of recognising our need for order and structure to feel safe and requesting [those things] from our partner, we pick an argument about the direction of the toilet paper. Instead of dealing with the weight of disappointment in ourselves having missed an anniversary or a special occasion, we cause conflict about whose turn it is to take the garbage out to deflect the pain.”