If it’s gonna be like this:
I’m going to need you to occasionally do something really terrible so I don’t feel like an awful person. I mean, eating the last chocolate from a box I bought for YOU as a gift, while you’re working late is actually grounds for capital punishment in some states. And none of that wussy ‘lethal injection’ shit; we’re talking like an old school stoning. Remember that time you drank the last Diet Coke and I literally cried and threatened to divorce you? That’s an appropriate reaction. Saving the last one for me because you knew I really wanted it, though, is just twisted.
The point is, you’re going to have to bust out an illegitimate child or a secret Vicodin addiction here pretty soon or I’m not going to be able to live with myself. Or how about a creepy fetish for watching people smash cupcakes with their feet online? Even a previously undisclosed love of the show Two and a Half Men would at least balance the scale a little bit and make me feel less like a subpar example of a spouse.
Unless… your goal is actually to torture me through guilt and self-loathing… oh that’s it, isn’t it? You know that acting like a jerk and being mad at me for eating the last piece of chocolate would just make me roll my eyes with irritation about your pettiness. BUT, being the bigger person who wants nothing more than my happiness while I selfishly consumed the last piece of sea salt and almonds Ghiardelli dark chocolate would twist me into knots of shame and misery. You’re fully aware that I can punish myself far more successfully and painfully than you ever could simply by being pissed at me.
Well played, sir, well played. *Slow clap* That’s actually an insidious enough plan that I feel a little bit better about my terribleness as a last-chocolate-eater. Wait… now I really see the whole picture… you made me feel better about being awful, by pretending to be nice, which was really actually awful. This plan has so many levels! What did I ever do to deserve you? You’re too good to me.