Rasika writes about being married and how that makes you act weird. Oh, wait, maybe that’s just her. Follow her on Twitter @rwelankiwar.
In 2008 I ran the Disney World Marathon. The route wove through the park, beginning and ending at Epcot, with Cinderella’s Castle around mile 10 and Animal Kingdom at about 16.
What kept my legs from crumbling was the mantra repeating in my head: “Trust your training.” My manager at work, a triathlete, had given me that advice before I left for Florida.
I now find myself reaching for that mantra in all sorts of situations: setting up a conference call, slicing a bagel, driving a rental car. I even go to it when my husband Ryan and I are fighting.
Since we’ve been together for more than a decade, there’s a lot of “training” in which I can trust. I’m not referring to training him to be a good husband. Ugh, no, that kind of advice makes me want to barf. What I’m talking about is the practice we’ve had at getting along. Sometimes that requires selfishness. Other times it requires intolerance. Take the case of Mike Tyson versus Gossip Girl.
“This is Ryan. He’s big into sports.”
That’s how my dad, without fail, introduces my husband to his fellow Indian immigrant friends.
He’s right. Ryan does love sports. But that’s not all Dad’s conveying.
His deeper message, I think, is closer to this:
“Hey. Whoa. Be cool. Don’t jump to any conclusions. He may not be Indian. He may not live in the suburbs. But he is big into sports, just like us.”
That shared interest is their anchor, securing them to common ground and safely away from awkward silences.
The best Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever given a guy is Wayne’s World, a classic love story.
The worst Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever given a guy is Tropical Starbursts. I was not a child. It was definitely inappropriate.
As bad as that idea was, though, I stand by my intentions. He really liked Tropical Starbursts, and if we were going to fall for the Hallmark holiday, I at least didn’t want my gift to scream Hallmark store. Instead, it screamed bodega, which I now realize was much worse.
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