I Don't Think I Understand the Rules of This Game

We literally have this conversation at least once a week:

Him: I am tired of making all the decisions. You pick something for a change. (He knows what he wants, he just doesn't want to tell me).

Me: I don't care. (Truly don't care).

Him: Seriously. Italian or Mexican. I made it easy. Pick one. (This is a test. He really wants to eat one of these things. He does not want to eat the other. He just wants me to...guess? be psychic? be so in tune with him that I want what he wants? I don't know.)

Me: Either one. Whichever you want. I know you have a preference, and I don't. (Still don't care. Also very over this game that I NEVER win).

Him: Just make a damn decision. I don't have a preference. I don't care. (He is totally lying).

Me: Italian, then. (I give up.)

Him: God, no, that sounds awful. (You lose. AGAIN!)

Me: ...

Being married is so AWESOME sometimes!