Loving you is like not being able to eat peanut butter. And I’ll admit, I’ve taken two heaping spoonfuls and watched them spin in a white porcelain dish in the microwave, then felt them melt on my tongue, and slide smooth and sticky down my throat. I’ve even licked the spoon, sucked each finger. But loving you is like not being able to eat peanut butter, like the plastic jar after a spatula has wiped it clean, empty.