Jesus Christ, you’re asking an old man whether loving peanut butter is a red flag?
What’s next, you gonna email me about your scented candle collection?
Grow up.

First of all, your girlfriend’s not wrong — peanut butter is sticky beige toddler glue.
It’s the edible equivalent of drywall spackle.
But here’s the part your dumbass love-struck brain forgot: sometimes you need drywall spackle.
Otherwise the whole goddamn house falls apart.

You think it’s embarrassing to eat it out of the jar when you’re sad?
Kid, real sadness is eating it off a butterknife while staring at an eviction notice taped to your refrigerator.
You think you’re broken because you like peanut butter?
No, Kyle.
You’re broken because life breaks everybody.
Peanut butter just lets you die slower and saltier.

You want the truth?
Your girlfriend’s fancy little opinions won’t mean shit when the real storms hit.
When your power’s out, your credit’s shot, and your car’s two blocks away because you couldn’t afford parking, you’ll be spooning that peanut butter into your mouth like it’s a goddamn survival ration — and you’ll thank the gods of beige paste for every sticky bite.

Is it a red flag?
No, Kyle.
It’s the only flag worth flying when the world sets your front porch on fire and blames you for the weather.

Now get off my brain,

Pops