I saw this someecard today, and recalled a post from last year on how I can never seem to parallel park with Cliff is in the car. Though I can whip into tight spaces when I’m alone, I always seem to whiff instead of whip when Cliff is riding with me. Based on some research out of the University of Chicago, I can tell you this has an official academic name: choking.
At the heart of choking is our deep, underlying desire to be impressive to people we like and love.
On Sunday my children decided to dress up for church – not necessary, as our congregation leans toward casual. Maggie put on a dress that twirled when she spun. Sam put on a tie and khakis (and a belt – despite the fact that the pants didn’t have belt loops). A friend of mine saw them and commented on how nice Sam looked.
Unashamed, Maggie looked up at my friend and asked, “Do you like me?”
Later, my friend commented, “Isn’t this how we all really are?” A compliment is paid to someone else, and we wait, in expectation and disappointment for a compliment as well. We need, daily, the affirmation that we are beautiful and impressive and smart and strong.
We need to parallel park like a champ.
But we choke. Marriage, and real friendships of every kind, are about choking without consequences. It’s about laughing at mistakes together. It’s about whiffing and then trying again. It’s about not looking pretty, but being attractive to each other anyway.
