kendrick lamar’s album good kid m.a.a.d city

My husband, Rory and I share important beliefs, but we often disagree on things we like, i.e. the safe stuff we tell strangers when we want to create an impression of who we are—‘safe’ because things are not who we are; things exist outside of ourselves. This might partly explain why he and I took forever to become friends, and when we eventually did, decided that we would get married. (To my mind, ‘friends’ are people who have exhausted the Easter-egg hunt for things they both like, and simply like each other.) Usually now when I like something, it’s enough that he can demonstrate his understanding of why I like it. Hearing him describe exactly where and how this thing clicks onto my personality usually gives me more pleasure than the thing itself. Sometimes, though, I like something so much that I really wish he would like it and we could get hyped up together. This whole preamble is background to something that happened recently. For ages, he had felt luke-warm about something that I really liked, and he didn’t understand why I liked it. (I know he didn’t understand because its presence annoyed him.) Then one day he picked it up again and decided that actually he did like it, really liked it, loved it, and we got super hyped up—about that thing of course, but also the fact that he felt differently about something (he wants, but seldom experiences, changes of heart).

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