I love tuna.

I realize tuna gets a bad rap, and truth be told: I never order tuna when I’m eating out. Who does? I don’t know a single person on earth who orders tuna when they eat out. But there must be people who DO because they haven’t taken it off the menu anywhere. Yet, anyway.

My husband hates tuna.

Because I want to please him and make him the hap-happiest man of them all, I just quit buying it. I once bought a few boxes of tuna helper and when I pulled them out of the grocery sack was met with distinct face from my husband… it’s his grossed-out face. I don’t think it’s changed much from 1982.
“Babe, really?”

Babe. Really.

He isn’t a helper-snob. In fact, he requests Hamburger Helper ALL of the time, and then I’m the one turning up my nose.
“Babe, really?”

Babe. Really.

I had Hamburger Helper SO much growing up that I’d just as soon eat, well, TUNA than ground beef! It’s true, dang it. But, again: I want to make him happy. So after 3 years, or so, when the boxes of Tuna Helper had finally been all used up… I quit tuna. And then I grew up a little, realized that if I loved tuna and wanted tuna, he could get over it.

Then I went bulk on that bizznass. I went to SAM’S CLUB (my favorite place in the shopping world, retail and pet stores included) and I bought 10 cans of tuna fish. And then I bought two boxes of club crackers. I didn’t have to worry about the Mayo or relish situation because (you guessed it) my husband hates sweet relish.

Sometimes I wonder how we even MAKE it together.  I won’t even get started on how much I love sour cream and how much he hates it.  Or how much he loves guacamole and how much I’d rather slit my own wrists than be compelled to eat anything avacadoish.

I digress:
For the past two weeks, I’ve been basking in a wonderful sort of Tunaissance. My husband has even stooped to eating tuna sandwiches on occasion and, since I omitted the sweet relish on his part, refrained from up-chucking.
Want to know how much tuna is left in my pantry? One. Stinking. Can.
In 14 days, I have eaten 9 cans of tuna.

In the smack-dab middle of one of these cans, I told my husband about my rule of not ordering tuna when I’m eating out. He told me he has the same rule.
“Why?” I asked, “What’s your reason?” I don’t know why I asked because I really already KNEW the answer. He hates tuna. I sometimes think I ask pointless questions for the sole sake of hearing (read: MAKING) him speak. I like to hear his innermost thoughts, even if they center around the all-revealing subject of tuna fish.
“It makes you dumb,” He shrugged while I nearly choked on my cracker.
“You know, tuna makes you dumb.”
“I’ve never heard that.” I laughed.
“I thought everyone had heard that.”
“No,” I shook me head.
“Well why don’t you order it?” He asked.
“I just assume I’ll get food poisoning.”
Oh, please. Like I need to explain myself to the person who once heard sometime from someone, somewhere that eating tuna makes you stupid.

Anyway, I googled it. Tuna DOESN’T make you dumb. They researched it.

In happy news, I’m headed to Sam’s club in the near future for my bi-weekly shopping. Guess what’s on the tip top of the shopping list?


  1. Myhusband hates tuna too! He hates it so much that when I did eat it, I would have to wash out the tuna cans before I threw them in the garbage so he didn’t smell it! I now only eat tuna at my sisters!

  2. It’s amazing how quickly something can disappear when you feel like you have a limitless supply of it, isn’t it? I am the tuna-hater around here. The smell is more than I can handle at any given moment. If I’m pregnant, it triggers other things. I don’t know if my kids will ever taste tuna. Oh well, I guess there are worse things to be deprived of. ;-)

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