Last night, Jon and I had a fight. When it came right down to it, we were fighting because we were comparing each other to other people. In my case, I was comparing Jon to hypothetical people (they, after all, the very best kind) and he was comparing me to himself (FYI: if you ever want to see your wife go from a little bit irritated to stark-raving, hair-pulling, eye-gouging, fire-breathing mad, this is, by far, the very best method.)
After a good nights sleep (in separate beds, in separate rooms) we were able to talk about it this morning, just before I walked out the door to go “anywhere other than here.” Over the course of the conversation, we realized that as long as we’re setting standards for each other, we’ll never be able to embrace each other fully and love one another, warts and all. I will always be able to find someone who does something better or faster or smarter than my husband (especially considering the fact that my favorite people to compare him to are hypothetical,) and he will always be able to find someone who does something better or faster or smarter than me (and if he values his life, he’ll be sure they’re hypothetical, too.) As we were talking, I said: “As long as I’m looking through the lens of comparison, NO ONE is going to measure up. I could find fault with superman.”**
And Jon answered: “Superman was immodest.”
And then we laughed.
And I stayed at home with the man I love… the man I’m still learning, after 14 years of marriage, how to love.