This past weekend I picked up our complimentary one-year anniversary cake from the bakery who did our wedding cake. I was really looking forward to this cake because I thought for sure I'd be able to finally get to taste the almond mocha cake I didn't receive on the day of the wedding because they decided not to make the cake I wanted any more and never called to give me a second option. Round two: still wrong. In fact, once again they gave me raspberry vanilla. I hate raspberries. I would never have gotten it.
What a disappointment.
In the realm of disappointments I've experienced, it wasn't really all that big of a deal. Cake is cake, and Bill loves raspberries so he's thrilled. It's not like it won't get eaten.
And yet...
And yet, for a person who sees the symbolism in every speck of sand, this ever-so-wrong-for-me-cake just hit me hard (thankfully I had gotten drunk with visiting family and had a full meal of Maryland crabs beforehand). I just couldn't help but see it as a metaphor for all of the things that have happened in the first year of marriage that I really could've probably lived my whole life without. Oh, sure, it's not like I caught Bill with the post woman or like we lost everything in the Dust/Catfur Bowl, but there have been times when I have honestly questioned the sanity of anyone who actually says that marriage is satisfying for all parties involved.
I suppose given my complete hesitance about getting married in the first place, it probably doesn't come as any big surprise that I would experience marriage in a similar manner. Lord knows that there have been MANY times when I have wondered why The Sky Pilot didn't see fit to leave the blinders on and allow me a more blissfully ignorant life. Alas, I came into the world with my volume turned up too loud, and a raspberry cake is the thanks I get for putting up with, well, marriage for a whole year.
Which I guess just goes to prove even further my theory that TSP has such a sense of humor that he doesn't reward hard work and perseverance with even the slightest bit of chocolate. Nooooo, instead you get exactly the opposite cake you want, the stuff you'd never choose for yourself, and then you're expected to eat it and like it. At least you got cake.
I've got your raspberry right here, Big Guy.
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