In the nearly four years we’ve been married, my husband and I have learned most of each others’ quirks. Like how I have a very specific sense of order about my things and if they are moved even an inch by my husband, I notice. Or, how he couldn’t care less about the cleanliness of our apartment, but his shirts must be folded perfectly. Or, how he believes anything above 40 degrees outside is “shorts weather,” whereas I could be up to my neck in a snuggie until July — unless it’s nighttime, in which case he’s freezing all night and I always feel like a marshmallow roasting over a fire.
It doesn’t stop when it comes to food, either. While we both do love a good Chipotle run, I definitely have my “single girl” dinners (read: salad, quinoa, Velveeta mac n’ cheese, cookies) whereas he has his own preferences (read: Chips, pizza rolls, frozen pizza, beer). Oftentimes we can agree on a home-cooked meal that satisfies both sets of tastebuds, but it doesn’t always happen. And sometimes, I’m surprised by what he actually does like (because really, it’s mostly chips and pizza).