How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Stake

Three years ago, my wife Min and I were at odds on the subject of television. We had just moved into our new house, the first dwelling we had ever owned, and to help make the mortgage payments we decided to give up cable TV. That decision continues to this day and has been an overall smashing success as far as I’m concerned. But there were bumps in the road, and I think the one I’m going to tell you about here was illustrative about marriage in some way that may go beyond our individual situation.

As background, I’ve already mentioned here that I’m a football fan. What I haven’t yet mentioned, unless it is blatantly obvious about me in every word I write, is that I also have a tendency to be a bit snobbish about a number of things. In a devastatingly charming way, of course. Prime-time TV shows happen to be one of those things.

So, back to three years ago. With our newfound dearth of channels, we began to notice that there is a lot less on the tube that we could agree on. Whereas previously we could always settle on some old movie, Iron Chef battle or Law & Order re-run, now there was no middle ground where our tastes differed. And differ they did. Min would typically want to watch one of the several trashy (there I go being a snob again) serial dramas, most often involving 28-year-olds asking each other to the high school prom. It was my version of TV hell- I just couldn’t take it. So I would usually go off on my own to read or play video games, whatever. Meanwhile Min was feeling like a football widow every Sunday as I spent 4-8 hours each weekend during the season devoting myself to the intricacies of Bill Belichick’s defensive schemes. The end result was that we spent an increasingly tiny portion of our lives together, well, together. What was left over was spent mostly working on or around the house, a fixer-upper that is still to this day a work in progress, or running errands. We were feeling more like room-mates than husband and wife. It was not good.

The solution to this dilemma was brilliantly simple, when it finally occurred to me. I offered my wife a deal: I would watch 3 hours a week of any television shows of her choosing, in exchange for her joining me on the couch for one NFL game a week and rooting for the Patriots when they were on in our viewing area. In addition we would agree to attempt to understand and appreciate each other’s chosen programming, or at least withhold audible criticism. She agreed, and it went fairly swimmingly the first year. I think I ended up having to watch Smallville, a new show called Lost, and something else that 1st season. Min claimed she could "hear my eyes rolling" during Smallville, which is probably true. But I started to like Lost, I really enjoted the challenge of teaching Min about football (she had always disliked it and most sports), and more importantly we enjoyed spending the time together again. Cuddling, talking about what we liked and so forth.

For year 2 we were going to strike the same deal, but now I was a Lost-watcher regardless and she really didn’t feel very enthusiastic about any other shows. Enter the Slayer.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer had at one time been the epitome of television-I-avoided. I actually derided the show and (probably) her for watching it just about every week, so she took to visiting a friend’s apartment to watch it (they both thought it was the best show on TV). But that summer, at the weakest moment of my football withdrawal, my wife struck (like a stake to the heart?). She would watch football again, but this time I had to watch Buffy on DVD. Three seasons of 44-minute episodes to equal one season on the gridiron.

By the end of Buffy season 3 it was still only July- we had watched at least one show a night for more than a month, and while I wouldn’t describe myself as hooked, with nothing better on and no football in sight we ended up watching the whole run by the time September rolled around. Min watched football as agreed and by January we were both mourning a Patriots playoff loss to the Denver Broncos.

Yesterday, we watched our first regular season football game of the year. We’re primed for the Lost season premiere. And we joined Netflix to keep us mutually entertained throughout the offseasons. Things are much better between us. Min's favorite football player, is Rodney Harrison, my favorite Scoobie is a Anya, and we dig that about each other.

What is the point of this long-winded history? Just this advice: Take interest in the things that interest your significant other, even if they seem dumb to you. Participate. Broaden your horizons. You’ll be the happier for it. That’s all.