**Why Kevin No Longer Tells His Wife What He Wants for Dinner**
“Dont you care what I want for dinner anymore?” Kevin asked his wife as he grabbed his coat that morning. “Or is it not important now?”
“I thought Id surprise you,” Emily replied flatly. “But if you insist, I can make something specific.”
“Its not about that,” Kevin said. “Its the principle. Is it really so hard to ask? Dont you even care?”
“Honestly? No,” Emily admitted. “Not in the slightest. Whats so interesting about it?”
“Oh, brilliant!” Kevin scoffed. “Weve come to that, have we? You used to ask. So it *was* interesting before!”
Emily paused. *Hmm. Hes right. I did ask before. Awkward. Better humour him, or hell go on about it all day.*
“What would you like for dinner, then?” she asked.
Kevin smirked. *Doing me a favour, is she? Fine. I wont be difficult. Marriage is about compromise, after all. Ill be the bigger manno need to be petty. Forgive and forget, right?*
“Alright,” he said magnanimously. “Shepherds pie.”
“What kind?” Emily pressed. “Lamb mince or beef? Or I could do a fish pie?”
“Anything but fish!” Kevin groaned. “Are you joking? You know Ive hated fish since school dinners.”
*Blast. Wrong move.* Emily winced. *Hell go on about those soggy fish fingers for hours. Shouldve remembered. And dont even mention custardhe still shudders at the thought.*
“What about sides?” she tried. “Mashed potatoes, peas, or carrots? Maybe some roasted parsnips?”
“Roast potatoes,” Kevin decided. “Crispy, mind. None of that soggy nonsense.”
“Of course, darling,” Emily said sweetly. “Crispy as you like.”
“No need to sound so put out,” Kevin huffed.
*Why did I say that?* he immediately regretted. *Trying to score points? Pathetic. Still got a long way to go before Im half the man I pretend to be.*
“If its not too much trouble, love,” he added softly, “a side salad with tomatoes and cucumber, please.”
“Of course, darling,” Emily cooed.
“And plenty of vinegar. And parsley.”
“Vinegar and parsley,” she echoed, smiling.
“And butter on the potatoes.”
“Butter on the potatoes.”
“And a bit of rosemary too,” Kevin added.
“Whatever you fancy, sweetheart,” Emily said.
Kevin kissed her goodbye and left, but the whole walk to the office, something nagged at him. Emily had been off. He couldnt place it. Distracted all day, he resolved to talk it over properly that evening. *Maybe Ive upset her without realising. Best clear the air.*
At dinner, Kevin poked listlessly at his shepherds pie while Emily devoured a golden, crispy roast chicken. She drizzled it with gravy, took huge, savoury bites, and even winked at him between mouthfuls.
“Hold on,” Kevin said. “Why are you eating chicken?”
“Fancied it,” Emily said with a shrug. “When you said shepherds pie, I thought, *No, Ill have chicken instead.* Garlic and thymeabsolutely divine. Problem?”
“No, but” Kevin frowned. “I assumed wed both have shepherds pie.”
*Oh, bless him,* Emily thought. *As if Id touch that stodgy mince when I could have this.*
“Sorry, love,” she said through a full mouth. “But isnt this better? You eat what you like, I eat what I like. Perfect, no?”
“Charming,” Kevin muttered. “Can I have some chicken? It looks proper tasty.”
“Nope,” Emily said cheerfully. “Made just enough for me. But enjoy your pie! And the salad. And all those buttery potatoes. Tuck in, darling.”
“But youve got a whole drumstick left,” Kevin protested. “Ill share my pie”
“Thats *my* drumstick,” Emily said firmly. “Made two for myself. You stick to your pie.”
Kevin chewed miserably, watching as she crunched into the crispy skin. His pie turned to cardboard in his mouth.
“I made sure the skin was extra crisp,” Emily announced. “Just how I like it. Heavenly.”
“I bet,” Kevin sighed. He forced a smile, swallowing the last bland forkful.
Next morning, as he left for work, Emily asked brightly, “What shall I make for dinner, love?”
“Roast chicken,” Kevin said firmly. “Dreamt about the damn thing all night. Just like you made yours. And no sidesjust gravy.”
“Of course, darling,” Emily said.
That evening, Kevin picked at his chicken without enthusiasm. Because there, right in front of him, Emily was tucking into a steaming beef stew.
“Best when its piping hot,” she said happily. “Could eat this every day. Loved it since I was a girl.”
All week, Kevin endured Emilys culinary taunts. The final straw was Thursday, when she demolished a plate of fish and chips right under his nose.
“I want some too,” he whined.
“You shouldve said this morning!” Emily said. “I made you bangers and mash for nothing.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Kevin grumbled.
“Give us a chip, then,” he tried.
“Not a chance,” Emily said sternly. “What would I eat? Your sad sausages? Hard pass.”
Next morning, as she asked about dinner plans, Kevin shook his head.
“No more games, love,” he said. “Youve had your fun. From now on, whatever you make for yourself, you make double. No exceptions.”
And from that day on, Kevin never told Emily what he wanted for dinner again.
**Lesson learned:** Marriage is compromisebut sometimes, its also knowing when to stop giving the other person the upper hand.
