Fundamental Differences

You know the conventional wisdom on compatibility and stuff – the importance of having things in common – tastes, interests, values and whatnot? One of the breakthrough points of my adulthood was the realization that it doesn’t really matter how much a couple has in common – what’s more important is how two people reconcile their differences that inevitably exist no matter how similar the tastes, interests, values and whatnots…

The funny thing is that I have less things in common with my boyfriend than anyone else that I have been or (could be) involved with. And yet, we manage to get along better than I could ever expect to get along with another human being. And that says a lot, especially if one considers the long list of what I call “fundamental differences” that exist between the two of us:

• The boy likes ball games (all kinds of them) whereas the idea of [insert the appropriate number for each sport] adults chasing a round(ish) object of any kind across a field/court/rink/whatever, while a million fans watch like hypnotized idiots, surpasses all my definitions of absurd.

• The boy thinks that Anna Kournikova is hotter than Maria Sharapova, whereas I agree with the rest of my male friends that even though one wouldn’t necessarily kick the former out of bed for eating crackers, the latter is a whole lot more attractive. As a sidenote – I don’t think one should be allowed an opinion about someone else, unless they know how to pronounce their name properly (Kou´rnikova; Shara´pova).

• The boy thinks that Steven Colbert is funnier than Jon Stewart. I think that Colbert’s character is a total dick that gets old after a month or two, whereas Stewart is like the proverbial Chanel suit that never goes out of style.

• The boy is perfectly fine explaining the wage discrepancy between a famous athlete/actor/entertainer and, say, a hard-working teacher by laws of supply and demand, whereas I perceive it as one of the fundamental injustices (not to mention skewed values) of this wonderful system that we call capitalism. Surprisingly enough, I happen to be the bona-fide economist of our household…

• One of the boy’s occasional slips is his confusion of Catholicism with Christianity in general (and no, he is not Catholic), whereas I think it’s an unforgivable mistake, especially when it comes from someone who’s a historian.

• When overcharged, the boy rather pay the excess than waste his time in an argument, whereas I argue, just because, out of principle and out of sense of justice. His general idea of dealing with bureaucracies is not dealing with them at all, whereas if there is one thing that I have learned as a paralegal is to patiently stay on hold as long as it takes to have shit straightened out.

• The boy and Russian humor are two distinct, incompatible entities.

• The boy thinks that my occasional mood swings come with the territory of being a female (or being with a female), whereas I know that there is always a darn good reason that upsets me and PMS has nothing to do with it.

• The boy rather do things my way than argue about having them done his way, whereas I rather do things my way than waste my time hearing about how they should be done his way. However, as a result of having been together for a while, my way is starting to resemble a lot like his way, so dealing with the aforementioned is becoming less of a problem than one might actually think.

• I think that Beirut is an ideal spot for a honeymoon, whereas for him it’s something like Sandals, Jamaica.

• The boy’s idea of bringing up a daughter is locking her up in a basement and not letting her date until she reaches thirty. My approach is that if my teenage child is to have sex, I’d rather have her do it in my house than behind a middle school or back seat of a car (I can’t think how that can be comfortable, let alone enjoyable).

• I carry my memories in my head (do I have a perfect memory!) whereas his are neatly stacked in numerous boxes and are currently resting in one of our numerous closets.

• The boy thinks that Richmond is an ok town, whereas I think that it’s the best place in the world. Guess which one of us is the Richmonder here…

I know, sometimes I wonder myself how we ever manage to get along at all.