My husband, unlike me, is a lifelong athlete whose muscles have developed with the aid of testosterone.
In the moment, however, when he’s on the other side of the net, I have a hard time remembering that. The ball comes at me too fast on the eighth shot of the rally, and I whack it into the net or over to the adjacent tennis court with an involuntary cry of frustration.
What happens next is critical. It makes all the difference as to whether we have fun playing tennis together…or ride home in silence wishing we had skipped it.
I have to carefully consider what I will say to myself.
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