Taylor and I had both done quite a bit of traveling on our own prior to marriage, so I think we both assumed that adventuring out into the world as a team would be really easy for us. After all, we'd been married for A WHOLE YEAR. Meaning we were basically certified relational experts who never-ever experienced conflict. (Ahem.)
Day One went off without a hitch, minus the fact that I left a celebratory bottle of wine and two extremely necessary cups of coffee at our apartment. No big deal. We overcame these potentially argument-inducing obstacles with ease, and proceeded to the highway. Detours incurred were only of the fun variety—Czech Stop for kolaches and replacement coffee (it’s famous in Texas), and a surprise visit to explore amazing caves. After arriving in San Antonio, we prettied up a bit at our hotel and hit the Riverwalk for dinner. Love-and-marriage success!
Then came Day Two, which encompassed everything I talked about in my first official column—marriage reveals selfishness. Let's set the scene: San Antonio is experiencing record-breaking heat waves. I have just opened up my bag, which reveals that I left every single pair of shorts I own at home (and that obviously I'm not as adept at late-night packing as I previously imagined). Hence, I am forced to wear black workout pants (which smell like the inside of a cave thanks to the activities of Day One), a workout tank, and tennis shoes. We proceed to the Alamo, where every other girl is wearing a cute sundress and cute sandals and cute sunglasses. It's fine.
Post Alamo, Taylor suggests that we rent city bikes and visit the rest of the "nearby" missions. He graciously asks if I would like to do this. I pause for a long moment, because at this point in my life I am not good at biking, I am hungry, and I am already feeling the heat...but ultimately I give the plan the go-ahead, because 1. I can tell that he really wants to go, and 2. I think that there is potential in this plan for a few cute Instagram posts. I wish I was kidding.
Long story short, my attitude plummeted from agreeable to tolerable to every word out of my mouth is a complaint in about 10 minutes. The "short" bike ride was actually 18 (hilly) miles in its entirety, and by the time we arrived at the first mission, my arms were sunburned from the tops of my shoulders to the backs of my hands. Naturally, I made sure to call out frequent updates about the status of my burn, the severity of my thirst, the fact that I had almost crashed into the river, and the searing pain in my calves to Taylor at least every five minutes. Surprise! We ended our bike ride early...and proceeded to enter into a pretty decently sized fight.
Conflict inevitably happens in every relationship, whether it's a romantic relationship or even a friendship. But in marriage, you don't just get to agree to disagree...or run away to your hotel room and pout. You commit to work it out, to dig to the bottom, to see through the other person's eyes, and to understand. And so in that moment—the one where we were supposed to be having fun, but seriously considering high-tailing it back home—we learned something(s).
Taylor likes to jam-pack his travel schedule.
I like to move at a slower pace.
Taylor likes to do action-oriented activities that require sturdy travel clothes.
I like to find the most authentic cafes and boutiques in town...and look "cute" while doing it.
Taylor can go all day without eating.
I...can't.
