Be honest, be yourself
My wife bought me a dress she hates. It’s a brightly patterned Celia B dress with every color of the rainbow. It has a prairie-style top with puffy sleeves and rickrack and a short, swing circle skirt. I spun around the minute I put it on. I loved it. It made me giddy. And my face lit up as soon as I tried it on.
My wife’s face did not.
At first, I said I would just pay for it myself. Then I said I would just skip it all together if she hated it that much. But then I heard her talking to the sales girl outside of the dressing room who was telling her how cute I look in it.
I had just taken it off. But I slipped it back on and came out of the dressing room once again.
“I just don’t like it,” she said. “You love it?”
“I do,” I said. “I really do.”
I twirled again in front of the mirror the sales girl giggled. My wife huffed a little.
“Take it off and give it to me,” my wife said. “And hurry up. Only 10 minutes left on the meter.”
I realized as I took the dress off how important the totality of that exchange was.
First, she was totally honest. I want her to tell me the truth about how I look in things. I need to be able to trust her on that front. And I like to know what things she prefers on me — not that I’ll always choose that. But I certainly want her to find me attractive, and I always want to be dressed appropriately — age- and occasion- and body-wise. Everyone can do as they please. I like to push some limits, other limits not so much.
Second, she honors my joy. Always — even when it’s a dress full of rickrack or another Asian restaurant or a trip that she can’t join me on. She’ll express her opinion — even her distaste — and then she’ll say, “Whatever makes you happy!”
There are some non-starters: She no longer goes camping. A safari is not on her bucket list. And she won’t match with me if skulls are the theme.
But even if she won’t play along, she doesn’t stop me.
The most successful couples I know follow this way of thinking. Even the best friendships can benefit from it. My BFF will join in when it comes to all of the reindeer games and vice versa. It’s about honoring the weirdo in the people we love.
I have some hard stops, too. I cannot watch sports on TV, and I loathe old movies and music. But that’s pretty much the only things that really leave me sour.
My wife eschews black — other than in a tux, although even then she prefers a flashy jacket. (Me, not so much.) She also prefers colored button downs, and I would always pick white if it was up to me. She’ll even wear different patterns together — definitely not my cup of tea!
But how she dresses is very much a part of who she is, and the same goes for me. So, unless I thought she actually looked bad, I won’t say a word.
I have been known to say, “If you like it …” when she asks what I think. And she’ll say, “I know. I know. You like me to be boring.”
The thing is, I like her. And I like that she likes clothes, that she likes to express herself that way. So, what that expression is — how that actually translates — is totally up to her.
I tell her the truth. If something really matters to me, I tell her. And if I don’t like something, I’ll speak up, which means when I say, “Whatever is fine,” I mean it.
That’s the thing. If you tell the truth about all things big and small, then your spouse/ partner/ friend/ whoever can trust you on all things, big or small.
My wife and I definitely have different styles, but we always have the same goal: To be happy individually and happy together. And that is WAY more important than patterns or colors or styles.
We are not two become one. We are two better together.
