It's OK to Not Be So Practical

I was returning a book to the library when my partner called. 

“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to grab lunch? I was thinking we could go back to that Cuban place on Chicago.”

Who doesn't love a spontaneous lunch invitation?

“That is such a great idea. Meet you in half an hour!” — is what I should have said, probably.

What actually came out was:

“Yeeaah, I dunno. They had really small portions last time at, like, $16 a plate. And wasn’t that the place that charged us for bread? Ugh. What about...”

I whipped out my phone and within minutes, I'd found an alternative.

"We're doing this one instead."

In my mind, I was simply offering a better option, maximizing our spend, time, and potential enjoyment, but to him — I was stealing the quiet inspiration right out of his hands and crushing it under my heel like an old cigarette.

He admitted some time later that I was a frequent offender of this, and that it made him feel like I didn’t value his ideas.

Shockingly (not), it was a major contributing factor in his rarely initiating plans with me. Knowing I would find fault with some aspect of his plan and then unilaterally decide something else for us instead -- he figured, why bother?

I bristled at this, at first.

That Cuban place did serve small portions, it was overpriced, and paying for a basket of bread is ridiculous.

Within minutes, I'd Google Mapped every eligible restaurant within a four block radius, scanned menus and reviews, checked photos, and found us another option that was cute, affordable, and did Yelp Cash Back.

What was so wrong about me saving us from a mediocre dining experience? 

I debated these (excellent, very valid) points for awhile until my partner looked me straight in the eye and said:

“You know, you don’t always have to be so practical.”

You don't have to be so practical.

And he was right. I always strove to be practical -- even at the expense of someone else's feelings and our mutual enjoyment.

In fact, I realized it's something I do a lot -- sacrifice the intangible, but deeply valuable, benefits for the ones I can see, touch, (eat).

• No point in hanging out in the communal kitchen during lunch when I have a project on my desk (after all, I'd just be getting to know my colleagues and maybe establishing some genuine human connection. Pfft.).
• A friend wants to try line dancing in Pilsen? Sounds fun, but parking is terrible and all two of my plaid shirts are dirty. What would I get out of it anyway? (Just a memorable night with good people, being enriched by a new activity).
• My partner read about a new exhibit that he thinks I'd like, am I interested? I am, actually. But? Well...it's not exactly cheap and if we go now, we'll have to buy lunch there too, and that'll be overpriced for sure. Why don't we do this other thing instead, it just makes so more sense.

But “making sense” shouldn’t always be the goal.

Sometimes it's worth it to do something you're not 100% bought into, because 1) it could be the gateway to something unexpectedly awesome, 2) the cumulative effect of having hundreds of little experiences you didn't necessarily plan for will make you a more interesting, well-rounded person, and 3) it makes someone else happy.

That is — almost always – more important than saving a few minutes or bucks. The same applies to work and friends and family, and not just to activities, but ideas in the broadest sense. I'm sure I've dismissed at least a couple of new ideas at work because they were slightly over budget or not precisely within the parameters of what I asked for.

Now I can't help but feel a twinge of regret for the possibilities I've snuffed out, experiences I missed because I didn't feel like feeding a meter or wearing a slightly musty shirt.

---

Last weekend, my partner came up with the idea to hang up a couple of our mementos, so we could see them often and be reminded of a particular memory.

He tacked them carefully to the wall, then turned to me and smiled.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Internally, I cringed. They were off-center. By a lot. 

There is literally no way that I will go a day seeing them and not think, “Those are off-center.” All I would need to do to right this is take our mementos off the wall, reposition the screws by a few inches, and voila -- just a minor adjustment, and it would make so much more sense.

Instead, I exclaimed that this the best idea ever, it looked perfect, and that I wouldn't change a thing.

Progress is slow (and sometimes grating), but it will be worth it. At the end of the day, it's okay to not be so practical.