Some Decisions Deserve an Appeal

Some couples spend a lot of time curled up on the couch together, binge-watching shows. My husband and I are not that couple.

Neither of us watches much TV, and when we do commit to a show, we move at a glacial pace.

Take Yellowstone. We’ve been watching it for well over a year, and we’re only on season two.

Two weeks ago, we were both home on a Friday night, and I had requested a low-key evening. Once our daughters were in bed, we settled onto the couch to watch an episode or two of Yellowstone in an effort to slowly catch up with the rest of the country.

Then the TV betrayed us.

As I scrolled toward Peacock, a pop-up for the USA-Paraguay World Cup match appeared.

“Oh, why don’t we watch a few minutes of the game?” I offered.

Not because I like soccer. I don’t. But it felt like a distinctly patriotic thing to do.

We’d watch for a few minutes, maybe see the Americans score, and then get back to Yellowstone.

Spoiler: We never watched Yellowstone.

We watched the entire game.

And I, a woman who does not enjoy watching sports, was enthralled.

Part of the fun was the sheer absurdity of the situation. We don’t have cable, so we spent the first half watching the game on Telemundo because it was the only free stream we could find.

I speak a tiny bit of Spanish, and my soccer knowledge comes almost entirely from Ted Lasso and Bend It Like Beckham.

Somehow, I still knew what was going on.

Eventually, we found an English-language stream, but by then I was invested.

You might be thinking, “Big deal. She watched the Americans win a World Cup match even though she’s not a soccer fan. So did a lot of Americans that night.”

Fair.

What surprised me wasn’t that the U.S. won.

It was how much I enjoyed watching.

Because somewhere along the way, a preference had become part of my identity.

It wasn’t that I didn’t particularly enjoy watching sports. It was that I had become a person who didn’t watch sports.

And once something becomes part of your identity, you stop questioning it.

To be fair, I’ve never been vehemently anti-sports. I actually enjoy sporting events in person. Baseball at almost any stadium is better than baseball on TV, right?

But watching sports at home has never been my thing. Outside of the occasional Super Bowl obligation, I always felt like I had better options.

A few months earlier, I almost didn't join my family to watch the USA-Canada men's hockey game. Hockey has never interested me.

But once I sat down, I was hooked.

Which led me to a bigger question:

What else have I been missing out on simply because I decided it wasn’t for me?

But it’s not just sports.

The downside of being a decisive person is that once I decide something isn’t for me, I tend to treat that decision as permanent.

Twenty-one-year-old Amanda made a surprising number of decisions on behalf of forty-one-year-old Amanda.

Take whiskey.

I can’t remember how or when I decided I didn’t like whiskey, but I can tell you exactly when I realized I loved it.

In 2018, my husband and I visited Ireland, where everyone assumes the redheaded American is obviously Irish. (Joke’s on them: not Irish and not a natural redhead.)

We toured the Jameson and Bushmills distilleries, both of which included tastings. I took my first sip, convinced I wasn’t going to like it.

It burned, sure.

But it was delicious.

These days, I’m a huge fan of whiskey and happily drink it neat, which is probably a more stereotypically masculine way to drink whiskey than most men you know.

So when I accidentally spend a Friday night watching the World Cup instead of Yellowstone—and love it—I start to wonder:

What assumptions about myself am I carrying around that are decades out of date?

The older I get, the more interested I am in questioning the things I’ve decided about myself.

Maybe I like watching sports.

Maybe I like whiskey.

Maybe there are a dozen other things I’ve written off simply because twenty-year-old Amanda made a ruling and forty-one-year-old Amanda never bothered to appeal it.

That doesn’t mean every decision deserves a second look.

My husband still insists I’d enjoy baking if I gave it a chance.

But baking has too many rules, and I don’t like rules.

After careful consideration, I’m comfortable reporting that some decisions remain correct.