I love a lot of sugar in my coffee. Sometimes I used Splenda or Equal, sometimes I use three tablespoons (really) of the real deal, sometimes I try a little Stevia. Coffee is not coffee without cream and sugar.

I dated a guy once who was put off by this. “I’m going to break you of that habit,” he’d say, as if my affinity for sugar were in the same league as throwing litter on the highway or biting my nails. Then he’d try to trick me by using too little — you know, because after drinking coffee since my Freshman year of high school, I’d never notice a difference between one tablespoon or three. Or he’d shame me in front of the waitstaff at a restaurant. “Can you believe how much sugar she’s putting in there? I hope you guys don’t have a sugar surcharge.”

He broke me, all right. He broke me of wanting to date him.

My husband knows to leave my coffee the hell alone.

I’m funny about ice cubes, too. I love drinking from a glass if there aren’t any ice cubes in it. I don’t mind room temperature water, and frequently prefer it to cold. If there are ice cubes floating in my drink, I demand a straw — or half of it will sit there until the ice cubes mostly melt.

My husband thinks this is crazy, but he leaves me the hell alone.

I have a saying that makes him laugh: “I don’t like cheese on my meat.” People always make me cheeseburgers, assuming you’d have to be crazy not to like them. I don’t. I hate cheeseburgers. And there’s no scraping that crap off the beef, either. It seeps in and flavors the meat, and then it’s no good for me.

The funny thing is, it’s only burgers. I love sausage and cheese on a bagel. Hot dogs with cheese? Divine. Chicken Cordon Bleu? Good stuff.

No cheeseburgers, though. Gah, I’m making myself sick thinking about them.

I don’t like being wet, and I wipe kisses off if they’re sloppy. I have to sleep with a fan on. I walk into the office in flipflops, and keep my dress shoes under my desk. I plot novels while I’m driving, and my husband knows it’s time to hang up if I fall quiet on the phone.

Don’t judge me. You’re weird, too.

One thought on “Idiosyncrasies

  1. I can only drink water out of a plastic cup… and not too cold either (though I make exceptions at home). But I like milk and juice out of a glass. And I sleep with a fan on in the hall as background noise and would prefer the ceiling fan be on in our bedroom all the time, but Ron hates it. I have to have the eggs in a carton completely balanced. And I hate the way those leafy helicopters look when stuck in the spaces between wood slats on a deck. It creeps me out and I’ll stop what I’m doing to scrape them out.

    I love idiosyncrasies in other people. They’re what make up someone’s personalities. And I always assume someone else has stranger ones than I do.

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