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Mine are two metal spoons we got with large containers of nestle quick when my son was younger. That fucking rabbit on the end of them is sharp and holding it makes me want to scream. When I get down to them I wash the dishes.
You mean like the spork?
when you’re out of comfy underwear and have to start wearing the sexy lingerie but you still don’t wanna do laundry
You mean my significantly less comfortable backup boxers?
At that point turn the primary boxers inside out. backup boxers is bad jumi
if they’re less comfortable they’re probably tighter which qualifies them as sexy lingerie
My partner brough one spoon that doesn’t match the rest of the silverware (provided by me). I initially wanted to say not to mix that in, but I kept quiet. It’s just sitting there, laughing at me every time I open the drawer.
You mean the ligma spoon?
Spoon ma balls!
Hahaha goddem
But I love my lesser spoon.
It’s always there cause it’s the least desired one and it lets you know that you need to wash the other ones.
Having lesser things is a great way to manage inventory in an emotionally healthy way.
“Oh I need to get more cause I’m almost out, meh, can just use the lesser ones for now”
The Kanban spoon.
It’s like a wear mark on tires
My parents have a spoon that’s shaped a bit like a cockle shell. I noticed this at 4 years old, and I remember my mother tempting me to eat things by offering it with “the shell spoon”. I obliged when she did this, not because I was tempted by the shell spoon, but because it made me feel a certain way each time she offered. Not quite an appreciation of her thoughtfulness, but rather the dread of a tragic scenario in which she was unable to tempt me with an object she thought I liked. And the truth is that I didn’t really like it. The edges of the shell were very sharp, so each mouthful felt like dragging two dull blades across my lips.
I would never let on that I didn’t like the spoon, because I couldn’t bear the thought of her feeling like she had failed me. The dreams in which my mother tried but failed to rescue me from various perilous situations were distressing enough. In my desperation to assure her that the ways she expressed love hadn’t gone unnoticed, I did all sorts of things I didn’t much want to, and feigned enthusiasm for things I considered banal.
To this day, when I open my parents’ cutlery drawer and see that spoon, my heart sinks. No one will ever use it, I get sad every time I look at it, but I can’t bear the thought of anyone throwing it away.
There is nothing emotionally healthy about the shell spoon.
Not to denigrate your experience but this is a good litmus test for anxiety. I can’t relate to this at all but my partner is hyper-aware of the feelings of others and readily attaches emotional significance to objects so this anecdote is very much something I’d expect from her. I hope your day-to-day isn’t filled with feigned enthusiasm.
‘Heavy Breathing…’
No I don’t. Why would he assume I do?
We have one fork with a bent tine and my son lovingly refers to it as the “autistic fork” (he can say it, he has autism himself)
He’s not a fork, though. So offensive.
so true, he’s a merge
He strikes me more as a pull
The bad spoons are useful for getting food out of jars or the like, so I don’t have to eat with them! Also luckily twin likes the heavy forks, I like the light ones, and husband mostly does not care.
Wait, it’s not NT to have this?
As is often the case, NTs will tend to have preferences here and relate, but the extent of discomfort at getting a weird spoon will usually be different. And it’s hard to explain to an NT just how bad it is.
I went full circle and threw away the weird spoon.
I went ahead and exchanged our complete set of cutlery with one that I like and got a 12 person set. We are two people in this household. Nobody ever has to use the weird spoon.
I avoid this by consistently using the same spoon. Other dishes may sit for awhile, but the chosen spoon gets washed after every use. Because there’s not just one weird spoon. There’s a whole stack of them and I have no idea where most of them came from. One of this, two of that, it’s all hodgepodge chaos.
But I’m glad they’re there. That way, my spouse has spoons to use that aren’t the chosen spoon.
