The Crabby Wife

I just got back from a great weekend in Santa Barbara. Well, most of it was great. The wine tasting was great. The shopping was great. The Imogen Heap concert being postponed - not so great. And the eating seafood on the pier while my husband watched - also not so great. I am the one who usually compromises when we go out and have to share a meal, things like veggie pizza instead of sausage, veggie Indian instead of lamb and even avocado rolls intead of my favorite spicy tuna. But, I cannot and will not compromise when it comes to seafood. I love oysters, mussels, clams, shrimp, crab and the mother of all yumminess lobster. If it hangs out in the ocean, I have most likely consumed it.

Seafood is the one type of food that makes sense to share, not only because of quantity but because of quality - a dozen oysters and a lobster tail ain't cheap.  But, even though you can barely make out a face on some of these underwater creatures, my husband will not eat them. And most of the time, he can't stand watching me eat them. I guess watching your wife rip apart the legs and body of a helpless crab that was just swimming in a tank mere minutes before gets to some people.

This time however, I did not care.  I drove him around while we went wine tasting and ate his veggie pizza the night before, it was his turn to let me eat something I wanted to. We got a great table outside on the pier overlooking the ocean - I thought it was him trying to be romantic, it was actually because he didn't want to watch the crabs and lobsters in the tank.

The sun was just starting to set when we got our menus. I quickly glanced over the menu hoping there would be a few things for him to eat. And like most hole-in-the-wall seafood shacks - there wasn't. There were two things on the menu - a garden side salad and a ceasar side salad both for $5.99. I pretended not to notice.

My mouth started to salvate reading the descriptions to the other 26 options on the menu - the lobster bisque soup, dungess crab platter, lobster, clams, and oysters on the half shell. The waiter came over and asked us what we wanted, my husband said a side garden salad with ranch dressing. The waiter looked confused - I quickly interjected announcing that he's a vegetarian like it was some sort of disease or special religion. After plauging him, I felt sort of bad and no longer wanted to order an appetizer, entree and dessert while he just ate his rinky-dink salad. I really wanted (and my stomach really wanted) that dungess crab, but instead my mouth plurted out just a half-dozen oysters and a cup of lobster bisque.

The waiter seemed a little pissy we didn't order more, but I already decided that I would leave him a big tip regardless to make up for the salad. I ate my oysters and soup, but didn't really enjoy it. I mean they were both good, but they weren't the dungess crab. I should have just ordered what I wanted, but I didn't and you better believe I was crabby the rest of the night and even blamed my husband for not eating what I really wanted to.

My husand already told me next time to order what I want because he rather watch me tear apart that little helpless crab, then him with my bitching and complaining the whole walk home. Fair enough, as long as he stops calling me the crabby wife.  

StoriesKatherine Peterson