The Double Stuf compromise


Are you in a living-together relationship?

Are you in grocery shopping for a single household, long-term, maybe even using one car for carpooling to jobs, dedicated relationship?


So, what compromises are you making?

I’m just wondering, because I think there are often ones we make, ones we think we make, and ones we are completely unaware of making.

For instance… Oreos.

Tigg likes Double Stuf. I prefer the classic original. (My favorite part is the chocolate cookies.)

When it comes to our purchases of Oreos, we compromise. We buy Double Stuf.

Now yes, joke fully intended there. Hidden meanings and multiple layers of joke fully intended there. But there are also some simple realities involved that stretch beyond the joke.

We don’t have Oreos in our house all the time. We don’t eat Oreos every day. These are not cookies that we enjoy so often that it makes any sense at all to buy a bag of each kind. Just wouldn’t work. And so, I compromise. Far more often than not, when Oreos are purchased, it is Double Stuf that are purchased.

This, however, is more than Oreos.

You may not eat Oreos. (I mean, I know you like them. We all like Oreos, so that isn’t it. But you might not buy them and may not eat them. Fair enough.) But if you live with someone, and that someone has their own preferences and thoughts, and you equally contribute to the items in the house, there will be compromise. In fact, plural, compromises.

Orange juice. Toothpaste. Bread. Laundry detergent. Something. (And again, a quick pause to note, because not something. Many things.) Items where it probably doesn’t make much sense to buy multiple kinds.

There are times when I wonder if Terry knows I miss regular Oreos. Times when I wonder about our toothpaste and if she even knows what I would buy if I wasn’t thinking about her while alone in the store. Times when I wonder if she recognizes what I have given up—or, maybe more accurately, what I think I’ve given up—for whatever reason.

Orange juice works as a thought. We both don’t like pulp in our juice. Beyond that part of it, most of my reaction is a shoulder shrug. I love having it around, and enjoy a glass in the morning. As long as it has no pulp though, as I pour a glass, I’m quite likely more concerned by whether or not I just brushed my teeth than the brand. Hard to consider that much of a compromise.

So where do compromises happen, and when are they simply choices? Are compromises more concessions? Sometimes I wonder.

And, sometimes I wonder if Terry notices when I do make concessions… sacrifices… compromises. Which in turn, makes me wonder…

Are there compromises that she’s making that I don’t notice?

I’m sure there are. But as long as I keep buying Double Stuf Oreos, it might be hard to convince me of what they may be.


If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at