A few days ago, Grahm asked me if we have anything in common.
My heart fell to my butt a little bit because I thought he was about to beg me for a camping trip. (News flash: pregnant women do not like sleeping pads or bugs or smelling like someone lit them on fire.) (Further news flash: I didn't like these things before I was pregnant either.)
It's true though, as far as things in common.
He's an engineer. His idea of a good time is ricky-dooing some robots and designing things that I'll never understand how to use. (I nod and smile a lot.) He also likes camping and volleyball. I'm an editor, who enjoys copious amounts of ice cream and DIY projects. My kind of hobby is spending Grahm's money at Hobby Lobby every Saturday. I like expensive hotels and avoiding sports that make me feel like the 5 footer that I am. (Don't ask why I played basketball for years.)
We like being together. We enjoy making each other laugh and working on our never-ending list of projects together. We both love running, but we all know how I feel about doing that with Grahm. But actual hobbies? I'm scratching my fanny over that one.
So the other day, I decided to do something about it.
In all my wifely glory, I headed for Academy and decided we were gonna start playing something together because collecting stamps and bird watching just seemed a little desperado. Tennis, it was! It was the perfect middle ground since neither of us have ever really played. I bought some rackets and balls and got a few interesting stares for the poor preggosaurus trying to make hay before the baby makes way. (What?)
When Grahm came home that night, I told him I was kidnapping him and that he'd need athletic clothes. I had looked up a few public courts, but both ended up being like epic quests for the holy grail. San Antonio apparently isn't a huge fan of tennis. Forty-five minutes later, we finally broke in to a jankity apartment complex. We played for about twenty minutes before it got too dark to see neon balls flying
with perfect accuracy through the air.
He was rusty. I was incredibly terrible and slow (I blame the baby). But even if my thighs will never be as crushingly fierce as Serena Williams (probably a good thing) and even if Grahm will never be able to serve like that one famous bald guy, we still had a blast learning something new together.
I don't think the recipe for a fun marriage is having everything in common, but I do think it's important to be intentional about spending time with each other. Tennis may not become "our thing" (Grahm doesn't like losing, hahaha). But really, it's not about the hobby. It's about the person you're making a racket (bad, bad pun) through life with and in the tennis game of life, our score was Love/Love. (Just ignore the fact that Love means Zero.)