One of the many questions I asked Josh in order to get to know him better- it was all part of the process, journey, or whatever I was calling it these days- was the simple, but ever-telling, "Crunchy or creamy peanut butter?" It is one of my favorite questions to ask, much like the chocolate versus vanilla age-old dilemma. In fact, it was the very first question I ever asked my roommate, Aimee. I personally am a fan of creamy peanut butter, and right there it gives away a huge portion of my personality. I felt it was an important question, so I waited for his answer.
Josh made a face and responded, "I don't fancy peanut butter at all. I think it's manky."
"Josh," I gasped as I Iearned this new information, "How could you say a thing like that?! It's un-American." (A fact in and of itself that was ironic, seeing as how he is British.) "I'm not sure I can be with someone who doesn't like peanut butter," I joked.
"I'm sorry babe," Josh sincerely crooned, "I can't stand the taste of it." He explained how much he hated peanut butter and I countered with how great I thought it was. We chatted about sandwiches, apples, and ice cream. We disagreed on which candy bars were best. We joked and flirted with each other about this new topic that had us pitted against the other's opinion. We had settled most of the conversation when in the sweetest, kindest way Josh struck me.
"As much as I don't like peanut butter," he paused, thinking about it, "For you, I would eat a whole jar," he promised in his rich British accent.