When my husband and I were first dating, we had a conversation about things we know we're especially good at. I always think it's fun to hear people evaluate themselves. And the more random and useless the skill the better. My husband didn't immediately grasp the concept of the game though. He attempted to tell me he's pretty good at everything. I explained that that was an incorrect answer. You're supposed to list stuff you're "especially" good at. You can't be "especially" good at everything. By definition, to be especially good at something you need to have stuff you're not especially good at.
That conversation lingers in the history of our relationship because I gave him some examples to get him started. The first one was Ms. Pac-Man. I think I'm above average at Ms. Pac-Man. Except then my husband claimed he was above average at Ms. Pac-Man, too.
We stopped for pizza shortly thereafter and there was a Ms. Pac-Man machine right next to the cash register. Game on. Clearly. My husband barely got out of the second round. I set a new high score on the machine. Now he understands how to compile a list of things he's good at. He started by eliminating Ms. Pac-Man from the list.
He has many other skills however. Skills I openly acknowledge I suck at. Skills he clearly excels at. My personal favorite is his tolerance for pain. If my husband were a car, he'd be a big Hummer. And his engine light would be on. But he'd just keep on driving and driving despite the light. The light would be a minor issue and maybe he'd plan to have it checked the next time he got the oil changed but why stop. And the gears grinding and the smoke coming out and the sputtering and gasping? Yeah, sometimes that happens. But still, no need to stop. Because, really, it's not impairing his forward progress. It's just pain. And, I guess, meant to be endured.
There is no finer example of my husband's view of pain than the time he got dental work without pain medication. He said the dentist gave him a shot to numb the area locally but that it didn't work. He kept waiting thinking it would eventually take effect. Only it didn't. So he just sat still the whole time the dental work got done like there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. Um. Yeah. That's pretty much beyond ridiculous. My husband claims the dentist was sorta impressed when he found out. I'm thinking my husband is confusing "impressed" with "creeped out" but who knows.
Being married to someone with a high pain tolerance is interesting. It's a plus when there's a painful task that needs to be performed. Like, say we go on The Amazing Race and someone needs to chop off their finger with a butter knife to win a million dollars, that's all him. On the other hand, complaining to him that you have a headache is sort of pathetic. I feel obligated to preface all my complaints with, "Look, we can't all have dental work without pain medication." That's what you call a show stopper. Dental work. No pain medication. You do the math. And feel free to tell me your most random useless skill. And be sure it's one you're especially good at. Because I'm not afraid to call you out and show you up at the nearest Pizza Hut. Just ask my husband.