'Right' has a place in making a relationship bloom. Finding the 'right one.' Better yet, being the 'right one.' Doing 'right' by the right one. But it might be helpful to be aware of when, to ensure a lasting relationship, being right can, in fact, be wrong.
Dangerously wrong.
To be sure, when you're taking a scholarship exam that will pay for your tuition, your books, and your room and board for four years at Harvard, being right is pretty important.
When you're disarming a bomb, and you have to decide whether you should cut the red wire or the blue wire, being right is crucial.
But in a relationship . . . well, being right definitely has its limitations.
That is to say, being right is not the most important thing.
Since attributions are rather an issue in this day and age, let us hasten to say that we did not come up with this line. It is the wisdom of one Reverend Strebe, a minister who once served in the college town of Las Vegas, New Mexico.
It was given as advice to someone then in a troubled marriage. Which marriage, as it turns out, ended in divorce. Too little, too late.
Even so, the message was taken to heart. And remembered throughout an ensuing relationship that goes merrily on after thirty-five years.
So you might say this anti-being right philosophy has legs.
And - since we really do want everyone to be happy - we're passing it on.
Consider the hostilities that too often emerge during football season. The hurt feelings, the sulking, the fight over the TV clicker.
And that's just during the pre-game show.
Seriously, we figure that most of what pisses so many of you off about football season is likely not the game of football, but the truly rotten feeling of being ignored.
Especially by someone you care about. And who has at least hinted that he cares about you.
You know: the "you love football more than you love me" thing.
For example, a delightful young woman of our acquaintance has declared, rather passionately, "I hate football!"
But on closer examination, it becomes evident that it is not the rather innocuous game that so offends her.
It is really, as she goes on to explain, that her beloved ignores her during football season. No, she is neither exaggerating nor imagining his conduct. The painful truth is, he prefers she not speak throughout the four quarters of the ubiquitous games that seem to flow endlessly from August through February.
Now, that's not fair. And our young friend is not wrong in thinking so.
Surely, their relationship is far more important than a game of football. Well, maybe not the Super Bowl . . .
Even so. Although this guy may be an insensitive dolt, she has apparently decided she wants a relationship with him nonetheless.
Which may reflect on her judgment.
But the real question here is: what is the best way for her to get what she wants? To wit, his attention. Specifically, his loving attention.
The answer is definitely not to sulk in a corner during football games, or to hide the TV clicker, or to talk loudly on the phone to her mother during crucial moments of play, all in the hope of making clear her entirely justified dissatisfaction with her beloved's choice.
These strategies are seriously counter-productive.
The thing is, when football becomes "the other woman," behaving in - uh - unattractive ways is not likely to achieve the desired result.
It does no good to blame the game.
And although your beloved may be wrong, or doing you wrong, or in the wrong, or just wrong, wrong, wrong, you perhaps should ask yourself what might be the cost of proving yourself right.
The thing is, being right too often turns out to be cold comfort. Emphasis on the cold.
What, then, might be a more effective strategy to achieve comfort of a somewhat warmer variety?
Well, if he likes black lace teddies, why not wear a black lace teddy? You love the guy, right? So why not give him what he wants?
He loves football. Why not share it with him? In fact, why not share it with him while wearing a black lace teddy?
Look: football is just a game. Learning how it works is really not rocket science. So learn it already. No big deal.
This weekend, read a book about it. Learn the basics.
By next weekend, you'll know what's going on. We mean, hey: can you play checkers?
Yes, football is that easy to understand. Checkers on grass.
Then when you cuddle up with your beloved on Sunday afternoon to watch the games, you can call for a quarterback sneak when it's third and goal on the one. While, of course, wearing that black lace teddy. Or other suitable attire.
You have then joined them and beaten them in one sweet, sexy pass into the end zone.
Score!
What comes next is sure to be . . . well, a lot more fun than being "right."
As Reverend Strebe said, "Being right is not the most important thing."
Amen.
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