Who Got Lucky?

My husband's high school reunion is next weekend.  We have had fun looking through old pictures this week, wondering how ten years have already passed since high school (eight for me), why no one politely told us about our poor fashion sense, and what we were thinking when we dated that person.  Ten years later seems like an interesting time to reunite, and we both have mixed feelings about going to our own high school reunions.  Some people will have gotten married, some will have had children, and some will have landed promising jobs.  All in all though, it seems like time will have leveled the playing field quite a bit.  People may be "popular," "successful," or "beautiful" in their own circles, but there is no such thing as "Homecoming Queen" or "Prom King" in the real world.  Everyone is now swimming in a much bigger ocean. 

I think I'm more nervous about this reunion than my husband is.  In many ways, I'm envious of his confidence in who he is.  While he is aware of his imperfections, he accepts them for what they are and moves on.  I've never been able to do that.

I'm a girl and this is a fancy occasion, so naturally, I've been considering what I'm going to wear.  I do believe that there is something to be said for wanting to make your significant other proud of you.  When I'm in my closet in the mornings, trying to choose my outfit, I subconsciously ask myself three questions: 1. Do I like these clothes?,  2. Is this appropriate for work?, and 3. Will Andrew like this?  I think the third question should be asked more often.  I'm not saying that people need to be entirely put together every day (I'm hardly the picture of perfection!); I'm saying that it's easy to get comfortable and quit caring about your partner's opinion of you.  (Sure, he will love you regardless, but he shouldn't always have to work hard to do so.)  I'm also saying that there are people like me who care too much, and not just about their spouse's assessment of them.

Have you seen The Fault in Our Stars?  If you haven't, don't.  (Unless you like big, ugly, mascara-totally-gone cries.)  If you have, you'll understand this reference.  One of the main characters, Gus, is afraid of fading into oblivion.  He wants everyone to know him, remember him, and think he is amazing.  He is so hung up on this that his girlfriend, Hazel, yells at him one day, "Isn't it enough that I love you?!"  I see myself in Gus more than I like to admit.  No, often it isn't enough that my husband loves me; I want everyone else to, also.

I'm about to tell a secret on us.  Often when in public settings by ourselves, Andrew and I play a game called "Who Got Lucky?"  It's not a very nice game, really.  We look at couples around us or choose a couple that both of us know and decide "who got lucky."  There are no points, winners, or losers in this game; it's just an interesting way to people-watch and pass the time.  The game has one serious flaw, though: It is only based on looks.  Sometimes, Andrew and I will disagree about "who got lucky," especially when we have chosen to evaluate a couple that both of us know personally.  Those conversations go somewhat like this:

A: "She got lucky."
MR: "No, I definitely think he did."
A: "He's a good-lookin' dude, though."
MR: "Yeah, but she is so sweet!"
A: "Looks only, MR!"
MR: "Okay, I guess she got lucky."

The thing is, personality can never be factored out when evaluating a person.  For this silly high school reunion (and in my daily life), I've spent so much time worrying about what I look like and honestly very little time considering my heart.  Sadly, I often want to be remembered as a pretty person more than I want to be remembered as a kind one.  I also, like Gus, care far more about what the thousands think about me than what "the one" does.  We've officially been married five years now, and I have no idea what people would say if they were to use us as one of the couples in their own "Who Got Lucky" game.  In my heart, though, I know that I got lucky.  I do hope he's proud of me next weekend, but not just because I'm wearing a pretty blue dress and spent more time than usual fixing my hair and makeup.  At the end of the evening, my hair will inevitably have fallen.  Ten years down the road at the next reunion, I will undoubtedly have more wrinkles.  Character lasts when the rest has faded, so I'd better get to working on that as much as I work on my abs at the gym.

And with that, I'm done playing "Who Got Lucky?".