We planned to play the game at In-N-Out, but the place was packed, so we go to the Habit instead. We sit down in a booth and you pull out the red We’re Not Really Strangers box and the Couples expansion pack.
You have specifically told me that you feel loved when people pry. You want me to ask you questions, to keep digging deeper, and I am finding that your layers never end; I never reach the sediment of who you are. So a game that exists for the sole purpose of helping couples know each other better? You’re dream.
I smile and take a sip of my milkshake, looking at you across the booth. You read the instructions out loud, intent on getting the game right.
These are my answers.
—
“What was the first thing you noticed about me?”
That’s easy. Your humor. I noticed this when we were just friends, the way you’re always leaning towards something funny. You don’t take life too seriously; you’re quick to laugh, quick to see the good in things.
I noticed that, and I also noticed your hair. You have great hair.
—
“Who do you think was more nervous on our first date?”
We’ve “argued” (read: joked) about this, but I still think you were more nervous. It happened a few weeks after a funeral we both attended. Ironically, it was at that funeral that I first began to think of you as more than a friend. After the service we found each other and cried together. I don’t know why it was then that the fuse was lit—in the middle of a space no one wanted to be, in the middle of an event no one wanted to happen—but I can’t control feelings, I guess.
It was then that I started praying about you, about what this could possibly be.
A week later I asked you on a date, and a few days after that we went bowling and ate pizza. I still think you were the nervous one.
—
“What assumption did you make about me that turned out to be false?”
I assumed you’d get tired of me—that you’d want someone more exciting. I get nervous about one-on-one conversations. I was afraid we’d run out of things to talk about and you’d get bored, only to head off to greener pastures, more exciting guys.
But last weekend—Easter weekend—you met my family and saw me at my most relaxed, my most boring.
“Drew, I like that side of you.”
You said that, and it surprised me. My assumption was wrong—I do not need to be the perfect showman to keep you interested. I get to be myself.
I’m so grateful for that.
—
“What recent experience made you feel closer to me?”
When I picked you up from the airport in Oklahoma for Easter weekend, I was lost in my head, worried about taking the next step relationally. You entered into that space like a butterfly in a thunderstorm, gently drawing my attention away from the wind and the rain—my brain—and onto you, onto our relationship, onto the excitement of what was happening.
When you met my mom, you hugged her. When you met my brother, you asked about his college decision. When you met my dad, you smiled and looked him in the eye. If you were nervous, I couldn’t tell.
We went to my grandad’s church and met thirty of my extended family members. You came outside with me that afternoon and helped hide eggs for the kids. You laughed at me when I climbed a tree and hid an egg way up high. You went for a walk with my sister and talked with my parents one morning when I accidentally slept in. And, when you left, you wrote a thank you card to every member of my family.
Oklahoma is my happy place, and—at the risk of being too cheesy—you made it happier.
—
“What is the most attractive thing I do without realizing it?”
When we hold hands, your hand always has to be on bottom. When you get excited you come close to running, which reminds me of a cartoon character for some reason. When you make breakfast, it always has to be an egg. When you’re being mischievous, your face scrunches up and you smile like that one scene in The Grinch (the one with Jim Carrey). When you order coffee, you always get an iced vanilla latte, always. When you’re bored or need to be comforted you put on Gilmore Girls. When you ask about my day, you always ask a thousand follow-up questions, wanting all the good details (and even the boring ones). When you look at me, I know how much you care for me.
—
“What immediately attracted you to me? What attracted you more over time?”
I knew you loved God, and I found that attractive. I knew you wanted our relationship to center on God, on serving God by the way we served each other. I knew all of that, but that attraction has only grown over time. I love the way you pray. I love the way you remind me of God’s faithfulness, of God’s patience and love.
In our good times, you remind me to thank God. In our hard times, you remind me to pray to God. I am learning what it looks like to love God because of you.
Also your hair. You have great hair.
I just find all of that so attractive.
—
“What about our relationship are you proudest of?”
Once again, at the risk of being too cheesy, I’m proudest of you.
This is so sweet!
If every spouse was so appreciative of their spouse on both sides I mean how happy a world we'd be - but would we have no history? Maybe we don't need history,like we now realize we don't need news