We all seem to be on the see saw of fitting in vs standing out. I say that knowing that see saws are no longer standard equipment on playgrounds. But when I was little my friends and I pushed off into the sky and sat helplessly at the whim of the child on the other end.

"Mr. Brown, let me down!" I yelled, legs dangling in the air like untied ribbons.

"What will you give me?" the little girl on the ground replied. Then I offered mythical promises like all the lollipops in China. If it caught her fancy she pushed off and it was my turn to decide her fate. 

Perhaps we are all bouncing between the two extremes. We want to wear the exact same boots as our friends, to give gifts that are of similar value to the ones we were given. Yesterday a friend told me she opened a lovely present from her co worker.

"I feel awful."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I didn't have one for her!"

Yet the desire to be special tugs just as compellingly. The girl who danced on point at the high school Arts Night probably enjoyed her moment of fame in a bevy of white tutus. I certainly enjoyed watching her. 

One of the ways these two magnetic forces converge is in marriage. When I walk into a crowded auditorium, it feels cozy to know that there is a seat waiting for me beside John. He saved it. I fit in. 

Not only that he chose me above every woman he knew in 1980. 

These two offerings are part of what keeps a relationship in motion. Fitting in, and being singled out are the see saw of partnership. 

Which is sweeter than all the lollipops in China.