Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Relationships: They're More than Mush
(An Arguably Pointless Story About Love)


Last month, two of my favorite bloggers hosted a link-up, “Why We Work,” in honor of Valentine’s Day.  I wanted to join in on the fun so I put my blogger hat on and crunched out a detailed explanation of how and why I sit at a desk all day in a pencil skirt.

So imagine my letdown when I realized that the link-up was “Why OUR RELATIONSHIP Works.”  Damn those details.

So here I am, yet again, late to the party.  Actually, if we’re being honest, I missed the party entirely and now I’m just stuck here with the guys behind the parade picking up the horse poop and streamers.  But I will not be deterred; the show must go on.

The only problem is that writing about why a relationship works is a lot harder than writing about why you have a job.  I work because God knows Bloody Marys aren't free.  But our relationship?  It works because of the mushy parts (he thinks I'm beautiful and all that glittery junk).  The grown-up, mature parts (we push each other to be our best selves).  And the downright convenient parts (he takes out the trash sometimes).

So instead of writing yet another one of my many, many lists that, let's be honest, you probably won't care to read, I'm going to share a story that I think sums up exactly why we work and hopefully will continue to work until I'm dead.

Why Derrick and I Work:
Because I Adopted a 32-Year-Old Hockey Player

A little bit of background to start: I have this habit of responding to the TV whenever anyone talks directly to the camera.  For example, when a commercial comes on and some politician looks you in the eye and says, “Hello, I’m Bill McSchmill,” I always have to say, “Hi, Bill.”

Or, in another example, when Derrick and I were watching the Olympics one night and one of those commercials came on that has athletes (like Julie Chu) look at the camera and say, “Thanks, Mom,” I of course replied, “You’re welcome.”

Derrick, understandably, was quick to inform me that I was not Julie’s mom.  And because I hate being told what I can and cannot be, I argued that actually I was.  To drive the point home, I spent the next week referring to the 32-year-old U.S. hockey player as my daughter.

One night, Derrick got fed up and asked me how much I wanted to bet that I was not her mother.  I told him $100 and we shook on it.  I saw that devilish little gleam in his eye as he opened his laptop to look up Julie’s biological mother’s name.

But I was already three steps ahead of him; I told him that of course I wasn’t her biological mother; she’s Asian for crying out loud.  I clearly adopted her.

This led to a 5 minute argument about if the bet was void because I did not specify “adoptive” mother.  It may seem trivial to you but it got pretty heated; there was $100 on the line, after all.  That’s a lot of bones.
It ended with Derrick conceding, but saying that I still would only win if I could prove that I had indeed adopted Julie.  He said that he would only pay me if I showed him an Adoption Certificate and a picture of me and Julie.

And guess who's really good with Microsoft Word, Photoshop, and forgery?

The whole ordeal ended with me leaving a counterfeit Adoption Certificate (signed by me, Julie, and George "Dubya") and this family portrait for Derrick on the counter.


He didn't end up giving me $100 but he did buy me dinner, which is probably more than I deserved.

And that, in a nutshell, is why we work: because in any other context outside of our relationship, this frankly would never work.

Happy Hump Day.
Maybe tomorrow I'll stick with a list.



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2 comments:

  1. This story just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside because these are the real reasons why relationships work and I love it. Also I like your lists and I always read them!

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  2. This is an excellent story. You really take it to the next level don't you? Haha amazing.

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