How do you like your eggs cooked? I like them scrambled. With cheese. Maybe with some bacon bites and/or sausage to really lay on the flavor. They’re so good. You can eat them by themselves, on bread, on toasted bread. It’s yummy. And, depending on who you ask, it might even be healthy.

But, here’s the real question. How does your husband/wife like their eggs?

Do you know?

Would you have any idea? Does it matter to know? What does that say about you as a husband/wife? Are you supposed to know? Is this one of those things that you’re just supposed to gather from that other person in the course of your dating/engagement/marriage? Does this one piece of information, or lack thereof, define your whole relationship?

Let me start out by saying, I don’t know Jayme’s preference for eggs. There, I said it. I don’t. We don’t really eat eggs that often that are not cooked in conjunction with cooking for the kids. Therefore, it’s always scrambled, because that’s the only way the kids will eat them. So, when Jayme and I share a meal with eggs, it’s normally scrambled eggs. Does she like these eggs? Sure. Is that what she craves? Don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.

I recently listened to an episode of Hypercritical from 5by5 Studios. (Great show by the way, if you’re into really geeky takes on things.) During the episode, one host tells another that for Mother’s Day, he should cook his wife breakfast in bed. And for extra bonus points, cook it all from scratch, complete with eggs the way she likes them. He then went on to assume that he knew his wife’s preference for eggs. Surely, any man knows his wife’s preference for eggs, right? Surely, this is the linchpin in a successful relationship/marriage/life.

This quip got me thinking. Am I less of a partner in Jayme’s and my relationship because of I don’t know her preference with eggs? Are we missing out on something here? Getting to the nut of it, are we lacking the sort of intimacy one comes to expect of a lifelong partner and friend because of some mundane factoid?

In my particular case, I don’t think so. Jayme and I have known each other since 1995 and have been in some form of a relationship since 1996. We literally grew up (relationship-wise) with each other. Meeting and datng in high school, we’ve only ever had each other. We’ve only ever learned one other person. We’ve only ever loved one other person so deeply. We’ve only ever depended/cared/lived/suffered/rejoiced with one other person on such a level.

But above any of that, I know these simple things about her. I know that what she likes the most is when I rub her back ever-so-lighty with the tips of my fingers. I know that she snores peacefully at night, but just loud enough to be more than normal breathing. She does this, even though all she can say is how much and how loud I snore (and let’s face it, I do). I also know that her favorite thing about me is that I make her laugh. Through all the normal, everyday (some may even call it mundane) happenings, I can still make her laugh.

These are things that I know. These are the things that I cherish about her. Maybe some people know some of these things. Maybe some people know all of these things. But, they don’t get to share in these things on an everyday basis like I do. They don’t get to experience it first-hand and realize the joy in those little things that I do. And that makes me the luckiest man I know.

But, maybe I should learn how she likes her eggs.


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