A few weeks ago, my wife and I went out for a movie date. It was a regular Saturday afternoon. The movie was supposed to be a masterpiece, so we were really looking forward to it. My wife made sure we reached fifteen minutes before the show officially began, which was important to me, as the child in me does not like to miss a single minute of the experience on offer - including the ads and the trailers.
The moment we entered the multiplex, we were greeted by the unmistakable aroma of popcorn - butter, cheese and caramel. My wife's inner child, who often gets hypnotized by bright colors and delicious smells, couldn’t contain her excitement, even though the adult in her knew it wasn't good for her.
So, we ignored the popcorn, walked past the concession stand to the screen and took our seats. We had our fill of the trailers before the movie started, and the experience lived up to the promise! As the first half came to an end, the child in me was content. He was having exactly the experience he had hoped for.
The child in her, though, wanted popcorn. The adult was trying to rationalize with that little girl, come up with logical reasons for why she should not indulge the temptation. This negotiation lasted almost the entire interval. Towards the end, it seemed like the adult had won, conquering the urge with discipline and willpower. The little girl, however, was not happy.
I couldn't let that slide. So, I decided to listen to the little girl and even though the movie was about to restart, went out to get some popcorn. Before I could do that, though, I had to reassure MY inner child that it was ok to miss a couple of minutes. It will be your decision, and it will be worth it, because your best friend, the love of your life will be happy. Once that decision was made, the child in me was at ease, and it was easy to go through with it. My wife, however, was anxious for the little boy who does not like missing a minute of any movie. She wanted me to come back. The little girl was feeling guilty that she’d make her best friend miss the movie.
When I came back, I had missed only two minutes, and it was absolutely ok. I had to reassure the little girl that I was not at all upset, before she could finally dive into the popcorn and have the movie experience that she had hoped for.
And that's all there is to the story.
There was no sacrifice. No expectations. No keeping score. Just two grown-up kids at the movies. Two adults looking out for each other’s inner child, each trying to make sure that the other has the perfect experience. I have heard people say that this is what marriage is.
I can’t think of anything more beautiful than that.
