Richelle Hofer

We ate at the drive-in. It was good.

Afterwards, we decided to get ice cream. A perfect ending to a summer evening, right? I asked JR what he was going to get, and he replied, “Probably a chocolate shake.”

Okay, solid choice. Predictable. Safe. I wasn’t interested in that, but knowing what he was getting helped me decide what I wanted. So I confidently said, “Great—can you order me a Peanut Butter Crunch Avalanche?”

Now, let’s pause here. Because this was a crucial moment. I wasn’t trying to be controlling—I was planning. Strategizing. Protecting myself against order envy, the all-too-real phenomenon of watching someone else enjoy the dessert you should have ordered. (You know what I’m talking about.)

So imagine my face when JR came back to the table holding…

A banana cream blizzard.

Real chunks of banana.

Crumbled Nilla wafers.

A creamy, dreamy, textural masterpiece.

I looked at it.

Then at him.

Then said, “What the heck?! That’s not a chocolate shake!”

He said he’d changed his mind when he got up to the counter.

I said, “Well, you should have checked with me! This is exactly why I asked what you were getting before you left!”

Silence.

I take a couple bites of my Avalanche, but it’s not hitting the same.

A minute later, JR gently asks, “How is it?”

And I say:

“I would be more satisfied with it if you were eating a chocolate shake.”

His face. Priceless.

He blinked at me and said, “RICHELLE. You seriously wanted me to say, ‘Just a minute, ma’am. I’ve changed my mind and need to run it by my wife first?!’”

Yep.

I do.

Unapologetically.

The Truth Behind the Ice Cream

Was I being irrational?

Sure.

But also…

This wasn’t about the ice cream.

It was about what it represented.

In this case? It represented betrayal.

(Not actual betrayal. Just ice-cream-level betrayal.)

And it exposed one of my lesser-known weaknesses: I’m a chronic sufferer of order envy. I will 100% order what I think I want, but still spend half the meal wondering if I should have gotten what you got instead.

Which is why I asked him in advance.

Which is why I felt mildly devastated.

Which is why this now lives in family history as The Banana Cream Betrayal of 2025.

The Marital Dessert Clause

To prevent future dessert-related trauma, I’ve taken the liberty of drafting an official clause. Feel free to adopt and enforce it in your own relationship.

Marital Dessert Clause

Addendum to the Unspoken Rules of Partnership

Article I: The Dessert Declaration

All parties must disclose intended dessert orders when asked. Any changes must be communicated prior to finalization, especially if the alternate item has high envy potential (see: banana cream anything).

Article II: Order Envy Mitigation

If order envy occurs, the other party shall offer a minimum of three generous bites without commentary.

Article III: Loyalty in the Line

Changing your mind at the counter is allowed only if you have weighed the potential consequences on your partner’s satisfaction. If not disclosed, reparations may include massages and late night gas station runs.

Moral of the Story?

There’s really no moral.

Still married.

Still love him.

Still kind of mad about that blizzard 😉

EDITED TO ADD:

After reading this, my 23-year-old son texted me:

“I think I may be on Dad’s side.”

Fair. Totally fair. Let me be clear:

This story is me making fun of me. I didn’t actually expect JR to yell “Pause the blizzard machine! I must consult my wife!” before changing his order. (Though … I wouldn’t have been mad if he did. 😂)

This post isn’t really about dessert strategy or marital rules—it’s about those little moments where we see our own irrationality, laugh at it, and maybe find some truth in the process. Thanks for letting me laugh at myself with you.

(And for the record, I still stand by the Marital Dessert Clause.)