Although 44 years speaks to a high degree of compatibility, F and I have several noteworthy differences, some of which I have discussed previously. I wouldn’t go so far as to say opposites attract, because we have a lot more in common than we have differences.
I actually am all in favor of differences, variations, uniqueness. Vive la difference, as the French like to say, although of course they would because everybody thinks the French are different, including the French.
As for us, I’m a procrastinator, whereas F is definitely a doer. In fact, if it weren’t for her putting a foot firmly up my, well, derriere, I would still be contemplating writing a blog one day, but here you are indulging me in the occasional dispensations I have to offer.
Our “message” area (actually, the counter near the phone) is littered with honey-do lists my well-meaning wife keeps jotting down, lists I keep meaning to organize into some sort of highly organized and prioritized system, perhaps even color-coded, but I can’t seem to find the time to get around to doing it.
Another way in which we are different is that she can fall asleep instantly, whereas it takes me at least a few minutes to nod off, unless I’m listening to someone explain their latest medical procedure in excruciating detail. She can doze off in minutes watching TV, admittedly a low bar in sleep inducement, and she can tell me goodnight, roll over in bed and start snoring softly before I have a chance to respond.
But the most significant difference between us, I must say, is in how we cut a sandwich.
I think I’m correct in saying that the proper, civilized way to slice a sandwich is diagonally, whereas F always cuts hers straight down the middle. Never mind that triangular pieces are more aesthetically pleasing than plain old rectangles, you get pointy ends to eat – and who doesn’t like the pointy ends of food that come in slices like pizzas, pies, and quiches?
I think how you cut a sandwich tells you a lot about your personality (I won’t go into what it says, personality-wise, when someone who on the rare occasion does cut my sandwich for me does so in a non-diagonal manner after years of gentle reminders). In this case, I think it reflects a profound display of linear thinking.
This makes sense, as least to me, since F is a numbers person, which comes in handy since she’s a CPA. I, on the other hand, am clearly more of a word guy. She thinks in logical, precise, straight-line terms. I can’t even draw a straight line, but I could probably describe one in vivid terms. She’s an artist at quilting, which requires an aptitude for sharply defined lines and exact measurements and precision, while I’m good at jigsaw puzzles, probably because they don’t require a whole lot of thinking, linear or otherwise.
Anyway, I like that things can be different and I like to be around people who are different from me, with different backgrounds, from different places and cultures, who speak different languages. Rather than be disturbed or frightened or intimidated by these differences, I find them fascinating. Homogeneity makes for blandness, uniformity, and let’s face it, boring sameness. Who wants to have a conversation where everyone is in agreement, no alternate perspectives, similar reference points, the same opinions, all us nodding along, yep, I agree, no dispute here, can’t find fault with what you’re saying, blah, blah, blah, baaa, baaa baaa.
Of course, differences aren’t always celebrated the way they should be in a country like ours that is supposed to be a beacon of diversity. So to that I just say va te faire foutre if you can’t appreciate people’s differences.
Oh, and pardon my French.