I’d Rather My Version Of REality

September 1, 2026

How can I possibly still be this awkward after all the years of sports.

That is the part I can’t quite get over.

The version in my head is much better than the real-life evidence.

In my head, Warren and I try one of these couple challenges and if it goes badly, it is obviously because of Warren. He is rocking. His arms aren’t straight. His timing is off. He is also shorter than me, which remains an extremely useful fact when I need somewhere to put the blame.

I like having his shortcomings available to hide behind.

Then Josh filmed us.

That really ruined things.

Because now there is evidence that Warren may not be the only awkward person in this marriage.

Watching it back brought up this whole forgotten history of being too long for myself. My feet grew first. I wore my mom’s shoes in grade two because mine had already outgrown whatever children were apparently supposed to be wearing. I remember my mother asking if I had tripped over the line on the basketball court because my feet were so big compared to the rest of me.

I was always growing into something.

Feet first, then legs, then the rest of me eventually showing up.

And somewhere along the way I think I decided I had grown out of being awkward.

Years of basketball and track and lifting and bodybuilding probably helped with that story. I spent so much of my life knowing what my body could do that I forgot about the kid who sometimes seemed to have been assembled in the wrong order.

Apparently she is still here.

She just has tattoos now.

I was thinking about Dirty Dancing too.

I remember watching it as a kid and wanting that final dance. Not vaguely wanting it. I could completely imagine myself running toward Patrick Swayze and being lifted over his head.

Of course I could do that.

Why wouldn’t I be able to do that?

Now I watch that scene and think, oh. This is how I die.

Because the adult version involves me running full speed at Warren while he attempts to catch and lift a 6'1" woman over his head.

Best case scenario, he pile-drives me directly into the ground.

More realistically, because neither one of us appears to possess the required amount of grace, I run into him at speed, he mistimes the lift, we collide somewhere around the chest and all twelve feet of combined limbs go down together.

Josh would probably keep filming.

Which may actually be my greatest concern.

There are apparently things that were better left inside my imagination.

That is what these stupid couple challenges have taught me.

The version in my head has excellent balance. Beautiful timing. Warren knows exactly what he is doing. My legs go where they are supposed to go. There is probably a soundtrack.

Reality has Warren swaying, me issuing instructions as though I am not also part of the problem, and Josh standing behind an iPhone documenting the collapse of my athletic self-image.

My ego has accepted enough evidence.

I don’t need to know what happens if we try the Dirty Dancing lift.

I already know.

So now when one of those couple challenges comes up, I don’t think, we could do that.

I think, no chance.

And somewhere in the back of my head the video is saying:

Careful, you two. The world is watching.