Strongly Worded

One for the Team

Long-distance friends notice--and question--all your everyday quirks and sayings. I didn't realize how often I say "I'm not a fan" (in reference to things I don't like, aka "I'm not such a fan of cilantro/heavy metal/Alito") until a far-away friend pointed it out. Nor did I realize that, when I sit down, I tend to naturally sink into a posture in which I lean forward with my arms crossed.

During my California trip, I had to explain a theoretical framework that has lately governed my thinking about relationships. My Californian hosts had some insightful and fundamental questions about the framework, prompting my realization that my stronglyworded readers have not yet been presented with the Team Dori theory.

The seeds were sown during the beginning of my graduate program, in which all of us beleaguered, no-math-since-high-school students had to absorb a semester's worth of statistics, accounting, and economics in six weeks. To get through the aforementioned statistics class, I depended on prescription sedatives and the kindness of my classmates. My friend A., (whose friendship is among the best "takeaways" of the program), was able to thrive academically (and without sedatives) by also leveraging the power of "Team A." Friends and family members wrote encouraging words for her to post over her worktable, and she assembled a select group of loved ones to help with matters both personal and statistical. Later on, a mentor advised another friend to compile a team of professional allies--someone to bitch with, someone to strategize with, someone to network with, and so on. While the team concept was crystallizing in my mind, an acquaintance was hospitalized. Her boyfriend sent out an email galvanizing all her friends to visit and cook--and he included a spreadsheet with a detailed schedule on which we could sign up. Over the years, other friends' boyfriends have served the same function, spearheading campaigns to overcome thrombosis and emergency back surgery.

Over time, all of this coalesced into the idea of Team Dori. I've gradually come to appreciate how extraordinarily lucky I am to have friends with complementing abilities, including those who can kick my professional ass into gear, those who offer brilliant advice, those who provide unwavering, non-judgmental support, and those who enhance my life in so many other ways, bringing me love and joy and making me a better person. And while I've never been explicitly acknowledged as a member of Team Anybody Else, I consider myself a faithful and devoted member of countless teams, whether the other players know it or not.

Thus, my agonizing search for a soulmate is really a search for the captain of my team--the person who knows and loves all the members--and yet is the only one who has the success of Team Dori at the forefront of his mind (and he would also have the email addresses of all the team members, should their visits need to be coordinated in the event of a hospitalization (God forbid)). It should go without saying that I plan to kick ass as the captain of Team Soulmate, leading a skilled cadre to constant, glorious victory.

My Californian friends were bemused and puzzled by the theory. If your soulmate is your team captain, they asked, then what are you? Are you the ball? The star player? Who is the coach, who are the cheerleaders, and--most importantly--what is the game?

Excellent questions, all. I considered them on the plane on my depressing flight back to this godforsaken coast. And I think I'm going to stick with my initial response. I think the game is not, surprisingly, a team sport but an individual challenge--not running (I hate running)--but perhaps rhythmic gymnastics. Then the team members are in fact the coaches, physical therapists, sports psychologists, costume designers, choreographers, PR people, and fans. The combination of all their generosity and talent is transformative. They start with a tiny body, a flat surface, and some balls, clubs, and ribbons. And together, they create a graceful performance marked by skill and strength.

Posted by Dori at 6:05 PM