A
Perfect Mismatch
02.14.16 -- A pal
recently introduced my wife and me to another couple
by saying, “This is Gary and Nora, who never would have
gotten together if
they’d relied on computer dating.”
And it’s true. We
don’t have much in common. Nora was raised
Catholic in Panama. I grew up Jewish in the Philadelphia suburbs. She
loves a
big crowd. I’m more comfortable one-on-one. She stands out at
a party. I often
hang out on the periphery. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and
face, and flaring
nostrils. I’m terminally laid back, and half the time people
can’t tell whether
Nora and me
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I’m delighted or
depressed. She hates to be alone.
I’m perfectly happy on my
own. She loves to dance. I tend to dance only when I have to. She
enjoys
gardening. I’d rather brew up a pot of beer. She...
Well, you get the point. Still, we fell
in love despite our
differences – and because of them. I adored her vivacity, her
unbridled passion
and her big heart. She cherished my stability, common sense and gentle
nature. She
swears she knew I was the man for her the moment she laid eyes on me.
It took a
little longer for me, but seven years and one child later, we finally
tied the
knot.
More than two decades
have passed since then, and we’re
still very much in love. I’ve learned to enjoy the hot spices
she uses in her
cooking. She’s learned to enjoy my penchant for jumping in
the car on a weekend
day to just “get lost.” In short, our differences
have broadened our horizons,
as we’re both sometimes forced to get out of our comfort
zones to please the
other.
Maybe it would be easier to be married
to someone just like
me. But I doubt it would be as interesting, exciting, challenging and
fulfilling as my life with Nora.
So after
seven years of courting and twenty-one of marriage I
still say to her:
“Will you be my
Valentine?”
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