Are We Having Fun Yet?
Why liking your person shouldn’t be one of the most underrated parts of being in love.
The last few nights I’ve been breaking my own unofficial rule about not rewatching shows to enjoy episodes of the medical dramedy House. I love Hugh Laurie, and if the super blurry photo one of my college friends sent me after she spotted him drunk off his ass at Mardi Gras in New Orleans back in 2012 is any indication, the man can definitely fuck. But that’s beside the point.
In the episode we watched, Fidelity, a woman came into the hospital with a wild mix of symptoms, which eventually led the team of doctors to believe she had one of two possible conditions. Both treatments were dangerous, and they needed to decide which one to deliver. The wrong one would kill her. Now, this is probably compelling enough to hold the short attention spans of the viewing audience, but there was another complication.
For the woman to have contracted one of the potential conditions, she must have had sex with someone other than the husband who’d been by her bedside for the entire episode. This woman denied the affair, thus prompting the doctors to give her the wrong treatment. They eventually figured it out when said treatment put the patient into a coma, but the point here is that this woman decided she’d literally rather die than admit she’d had extramarital sex. SHE CHOSE DEATH.
At this point, I turned to R. and asked if he’d do the same in that situation. He’d been sleeping with his mouth open through most of the episode, so he was still a little out of it. He paused for a moment before responding. The following exchange ensued:
R: I…
Me: Because please don’t do that. I’d rather you not die. Wait…what were you going to say?
R: Well, if I was dying anyway…
Me: If you were dying anyway you wouldn’t tell me you’d had an affair?!
R: Yea. Probably not.
Me: That’s hilarious.
I honestly love that answer. To be clear, I’d definitely know if R. were cheating on me (don’t marry a psychic if you want to sneak around on the down low, am I right?), so this is kind of a moot point, but I’m tickled to hear that he’d take his affair to the grave. Why? Because I find a lot of the ways in which R. responds to my random questions to be utterly delightful. He’s the funniest person I’ve ever met, and he always surprises me with how his mind works. The best part of our relationship is our wacky way of relating to one another. We’re constantly cracking dumb jokes and laughing hysterically. This silliness more than makes up for all the times we push one another to the brink.
This balance is very important. If you’ve been reading this newsletter for a while, you know that I think great sex, kindness, accountability and compliments are all essential to a successful and mutually fulfilling partnership. But I also believe that having fun with your person on a regular basis is a completely underrated part of building a relationship that lasts. When love feels strained (such as when you’re pulling discarded Icy Hot back patches out of the recycling bin for the seventeenth time), like carries you through. And I like R. a lot. I like him more than anyone else. If I could choose anyone in the world to go on an adventure with, I’d choose R. … unless Jimmy G. was free, but even then, I’d probably still pick R.
I can say this with confidence because R. and I have fun together in nearly every situation. We’ve built our relationship on the basis of seeking off-the-wall experiences, navigating the chaos and cracking each other up with inside jokes. We’ve been known to spend entire conversations talking as our dogs, which obviously all have their own voices and personalities. Occasionally, we do this at parties if we get bored talking to other people. We do it so often at home that even the dogs themselves know our versions of their voices because they perk up when they hear them. It’s adorable.
All of this is to say that sometimes you and your partner have to make your own fun. Here's a good example of what I mean. Early in our relationship, R. had a work trip to Pittsburgh and I decided to tag along. Outside of his work obligations, we decided to explore the city and eat the largest paella known to man. A friend who knew we were going to Steel City recommended visiting a place called Randyland. There was no way we were going to miss that nonsense, so we grabbed some coffee and made our way over to Arch Street, where, presumably, Randys of all kinds lived, loved and made art. Yes, it is a real place.
When we arrived, Randyland greeted us in all its technicolor glory. There was one particular Randy, Randy Gilson, inside this open-air museum. He’s the namesake Randy who first purchased the property in the city’s Northside and began decorating it with upcycled found art objects like plastic dinosaurs and pink flamingos. RG was a delightfully kooky character who took a million photos of us enjoying the space and helped us pose for the snapshot I’ve included below. It was a truly batshit experience that has provided years’ worth of joyful “remember when”-type fodder. If you’re ever in Pittsburgh, please go there. It will not disappoint.
So, yes, having fun together is important. I’ve seen what happens when couples don’t make fun a priority. When R. and I lived in Portland, we ran in the same circle with a couple that clearly hated each other. It was painful to watch. Every time we were at a party that they also attended, R. and I would wonder why they didn’t just part ways. They kept having kids, which only seemed to make things worse, and they were constantly picking at each other and making it awkward for everyone else to witness.
And look, for some people, bickering is their whole vibe. My parents have been married for a million years and love each other very much, but they also like to make fun of one another in ways that are pretty horrifying to outsiders. For example, my dad used to come downstairs after waking up, look at my mom and say, “My God. Could you get any uglier?” Without skipping a single beat, my mom would reply back with, “Look who’s talking accordion face.” I once told that story to my college boyfriend, and he was full-on disturbed. He didn’t get very far. He clearly wasn’t going to be able to hack it at our family get-togethers.
You can bicker and joke and poke fun, but at the end of the day, your relationship is going to feel like a boring slog all the way to the grave if you don’t actually like each other. My suggestion is to find a way to amuse and be amused by your partner. You’ll have a better time, and maybe, just maybe, it will sting slightly less when your partner decides she would rather die of African sleeping sickness than tell you about the time she fucked your best friend.
With pleasure,
Yes, Misstrix
P.S. In case you missed it, the title of today’s post is a Party Down reference. I haven’t seen the latest season, but the first two (the ones that aired years ago) are a roaring good time.
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