Blonde and Handsome
I walked in and sat down in world religions class. The blonde girl that usually sat in front of me wasn’t there yet, but the tall dark and handsome guy was. He was married, I knew and respected that. It intrigued me that he was married so young, while in school and working, but didn’t act as if it was just the next step, rather a true commitment. He and his wife were mature adults in college student bodies.
Blonde girl came in with her bouncy, and yet somehow judgemental, presence, bringing with her giggles and flirty side eyes. You know the type.
Handsome guy typically sat next to blonde girl but moved a row ahead on this particular Thursday. He sat studiously, taking down the notes already up on the whiteboard, scribbled in every direction by our Einstein-lookalike professor.
Blonde sat down in her usual spot and sparked a conversation about her day, the reading for today’s class, and what in the world Handsome, why did you move seats? I vividly remember the look on her porcelain face, innocent but devious, as she engaged Handsome said, “I thought I was your favorite?” My eyes couldn’t help but roll when I heard that one.
The conversation went on, Blonde’s boyfriend came in and joined them. I moved on from my wildlife observation and did my best to transcribe the chicken scratch at the front of the deep blue room.
And then something beautiful took place.
Just as class was about to begin and the trio’s conversation began to settle, Handsome made a move. He looked at Blonde and in the kindest form of assertion spoke gently and said,
“Oh, and my wife is my favorite.”
Blonde smiled mildly, acting like she didn’t intend anything by her previous comments. I sat in the back, watching this all unfold, internally slow-clapping Handsome’s commitment not only to his wife, but to the true appearance of their relationship. He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t cruel. He honored his Mrs. and set the record straight for Blonde, since she obviously needed a reminder. I gave Handsome a mental standing ovation and did my best not to focus on his perfectly beautiful shutdown of Blonde’s self-focused behavior.
Weeks have gone by, but I still find myself proud of Handsome, cheering on him and all the men who choose to embrace marriage as a sacred, all-encompassing commitment.
Sometimes fighting for love looks like a life-altering display of profound affection. Other times, more often than not, it is small, maybe even unnoticeable, but certainly just as important.
How beautiful the poetic awkwardness that comes to life in marriage. May we all have Handsome’s quiet confidence to say to any threat or doubt, “My love is my favorite” and may we fight for it, whether through dragons or dirty dishes.