“Opposites attract!” is the tried and true mantra people use to explain the unexpected (and sometimes gross) relationships they’ve engaged in. We’ve all seen it: the tattooed guy with the preppy girl next door, the statuesque woman with the little monkey man, or the boisterous, outgoing guy with the more reserved, introspective, charming and delightfully lovely freckled brunette. As much as I wish the word statuesque could be used to describe me (for the height and unspoken elegance, not so much the bird shit), my relationship falls into the third category.
Prior to dating my current boyfriend, I thought all these “opposites attract” people were just looking for a way to explain their weird taste or legitimize an act of rebellion that’s pretty transparently directed toward their overbearing parents, but there’s actually a lot of truth to all this “opposites attract” logic, far beyond the laws of magnetism and your quickly becoming tacky refrigerator door.
Having stuff in common is necessary in a relationship when it comes to the important things like values or preferred pizza toppings, but the great thing about dating someone who’s different than you is being able to enjoy and observe at close range all the personality traits you don’t have, without actually having them. Sometimes I think I’m missing out because I’m not as friendly and outspoken as my boyfriend, but then I remember just how much most people suck and how comfortable I am overanalyzing everything, and I think, “Gee, that must be pretty neat, but it’s just not for me.”
1. He’s bold; I’m a meek sans-serif.
We had been dating about a month when my boyfriend first mortified me in a hospital waiting room. I was at the apex of my gallstone misery waiting for the results of an ultrasound when he showed up with a bottle of apple juice to keep me company (which is much sweeter than what follows). My boyfriend has no filter, even in a somber waiting room, which is something I learned all too well when he spotted a sick man in a wheelchair wearing a hospital gown, possibly waiting for news about cancer, and exclaimed, “I CAN SEE THAT GUY’S BALLS!” Shocked by his outburst, another patient awaiting test results that was reading an issue of Time magazine from 1980 near us delared, “I’m going to go sit over there.”
A third-year resident making rounds had to stop what he was doing and get a crash cart, because I almost died of embarrassment right then and there. I am a little jealous of empowered my boyfriend is to say exactly what’s on his mind, but I’m just the kinda gal that would rather not know about a protruding nose hair. (I literally cried about a nose hair last night–imagine this is Game of Thrones: Menstrual Cycle is Coming.)
2. He’s a bad speller; I’m the elementary school English teacher you drew mean pictures of.
My boyfriend is a great storyteller, and I love reading his writing, but he gets irritated with me because I can’t help but point out his questionable spelling and grammar. His argument is that he’s a writer, not an editor, but I feel like the two go hand in hand. When I read something riddled with typos and missing commas, it just feels wrong to look at. I imagine it’s like when you go for a walk at the dog park and you hope to see a few cute puppies chasing a butterfly or sniffing dandelions, but instead you see two mangy mutts with clumps of hair missing feverishly humping each other by the fire hydrant someone’s oblivious Pomeranian is tinkling on.
I admire how passionate my boyfriend is about his (largely misspelled) words, and I envy how he manages to tell a tale without re-reading each sentence four times and correcting errors before continuing (my process), but I just can’t stand to see a bunch of red squiggles under my prose in Microsoft Word.
3. He’s clean; I’m fucking gross.
My boyfriend’s apartment is immaculate. There’s no dust, no dirty laundry obstacle course, no plates in odd places, and no pile of messy dishes in the sink—it’s like an old lady’s siting room without the floral-printed skirted furniture. Most women would love to find a tidy man, but I am not most women, and my boyfriend’s cleanliness only calls attention to how grody I am; I’m Grody Jenner. Whenever I come over to his place, I leave in my wake discarded socks, dishes filled with crumbs, half empty glasses of water (or half full?), and countless ponytail holders splayed across his clutter-free surfaces. In his perfect world, we’d spend every Sunday in a Pledge-scented bliss…
4. He engages with people; I quietly observe people to write about them later.
My boyfriend is one of those friendly people that immediately relates to someone and can joke around with them within fifteen minutes of meeting them. Me? I like to stay quiet and observe strangers to gauge if 1.) they’ll appreciate my conversation skills 2.) they’re worth talking to 3.) I even feel like socializing. I leave his side at the gym for 10 minutes, and by the time I come back he’ll have befriended the guy who works there, and he’ll already know his name, astrological sign, employment history, and blood type. It must be nice to be able to easily establish a rapport with new people, but I think being gregarious is too much work for me (not to mention, the name “Greg” is in it, which automatically means it’s awful).
We tend to go to extremes when we think about dating someone who’s our opposite (because my true opposite would probably give motivational speeches for a living, drive a Mini Cooper, and have no sense of humor), but think of it this way: being with someone who’s a little different from you will give you a new perspective on the qualities you might think you lack, and it might open your eyes to just how comfortable you are being you (even when it includes being quiet, hormonal, and messy, like me).
