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Dating Diary:
Like two peas in a pod...
Dear Diary,
WHERE WERE WE?
The other day, I found myself lulling a lazy afternoon at work by having a long conversation with a co-worker about relationships. In the middle of the conversation, she brought up the “c”-word. No, she wasn’t calling me names, nor did she conjure up the dreaded “commitment” talk that has many wincing in monotonous domesticity. We were discussing relationship woes when she decided that perhaps the root of her current problems had to do with a lack of “compatibility” with her long-term boyfriend.I don’t know this couple well enough to make an informed decision about their situation, but from what she told me, it definitely sounded like there was room for discussion. She reasoned that their lack of mutual friends, plus differing interests and priorities in life, was placing their relationship at a standstill.
The more she talked, the more I realized that she was not only describing her relationship, but also mine.
Everyone has a set list of the ideal but superficial qualities that they look for in a significant other. It’s rare that we actually take a step back to figure out whether the things that we look for, this checklist for the perfect mate, bears any resonance on whether we would actually be compatible with this seemingly perfect specimen.
Back in high school, in honour of Valentine’s Day and as a way to swindle money from the student body, our school held an annual “Match Maker” game. Perhaps you’ve experienced this at your high school but, chances are, this match making scheme that purported to find anyone’s “perfect match” from the pool of their student body was our own student council’s version of dating torture: all you had to do was answer a series of innocuous questions (i.e. ideal after school activity, personality trait that describes you best, what you ate for lunch), fill out a bubble sheet, and pay two dollars a pop to find eternal love. Of course, there was no science, or even fate, involved in this – simple statistics predicted who would land in your top twenty matches. Being in hopeless crush mode in the eleventh grade, I purposefully stuffed my answers. In retrospect, I’m not sure why I was convinced that there was any correlation between a silly game like “Match Maker” and my crush waking up one day to realize that I was his one true love, but when you’re sixteen and hormones run rampant, anything seems possible. As predicted, I did land in his top ten (the revelation forced an uncomfortable grin out of him and not much else), but he didn’t land in mine. In other words, I had made myself his perfect girl from information gleaned from short talks in math class and what he liked to scribble in his notebook instead of equations; but by truthfully answering his questionnaire, it was obvious he really did have little in common with me.
It took years of dating and growing up to see that there was more to just getting along with someone to make a bond stick. In my teens, nothing would excite me more than the quintessential but harmless thug – the type of boy who seemed unattainable and oozed danger. Of course, at that age, anyone who could stay out past eleven o’clock oozed danger. Perhaps the attraction came from the mystery behind these boys, or the old adage about opposites attracting. But once stripped away from the street appeal, the only thing remaining under the surface was a really confused adolescent boy.
In my early twenties, I became charmed by the class clown. I basically wanted to do anyone who could make me laugh. But I soon realized that it didn’t really take a lot to make me laugh, and the “to do” list was becoming longer than I could handle.
My next phase was the sensitive artist. I pined after the conflicted types, the men who had untamed passion for their craft. The scruffier, the better. The weirder, the better. And if he could do it all while strumming a guitar, I would be putty in his hands.
When read in a series of succeeding paragraphs, it becomes obvious that I was more obsessed with the prototype than the personality. My phases ended as quickly as they had begun because as much as I was enamoured with the archetype, actually finding a connection with someone took more than just staying in our two-dimensional boxes. I found the thug and he brought excitement into my life, but the highs weren’t enough to sustain a serious relationship. The class clown was charismatic and happy-go-lucky, which, as I quickly found out, was exactly the type of guy that other girls also found attractive – and his need to please and be well-liked often came at a cost. As for the sensitive artist, I came to the decision that dating someone moodier than me, and perhaps prettier, was a recipe for disaster.
Looking back at the “Match Maker” game, I can recount about five guys on the list who wouldn’t have made the cut ten years ago, but would probably be the type of person that I would date today (granted that nothing has changed since high school, which, judging by my flexibility and ability to do math in my head, would suggest otherwise). They didn’t fit neatly into a box, but from my time spent with them – six hours a day for five years – I finally wised up to the idea that being compatible means so much more than just being in the same class, or picking out the same lunch in the cafeteria line, or even belonging to the same social circle. Being compatible means meshing two personalities together and coming out with something good, strong, and better.
I have several male friends that I get along with splendidly. Every time I see them, we spontaneously gravitate to each other and spend the rest of the night together. They understand my strange sense of humour and nut job musings, and can tell, just from a look, what I’m thinking, because they’re thinking the same thing. Even with months apart, the familiarity and intimacy is still there. But despite our strong connection and mutual toying with the idea of making it permanent, dating seemed like the total opposite of the natural progression of our relationship.
While studies have shown that opposites may attract but a lasting relationship they do not make, having someone just like yourself around can make you insane. Imagine having a discussion and facing constant agreement, or hearing your own thoughts being spoken out loud during pillow talk. These are obviously extreme scenarios that never happen in real life, but the sentiment is all the same: dating yourself sucks. It sucks even more if you can imagine taking your worst traits, and amplifying them by two.
When I met Bee, we were already facing an uphill battle. We both knew that our differences outweighed the things we had in common. With time, these differences became more and more glaring, to the point that they became frustrations in our relationship. We had different ideas about how to spend our spare time and who to spend it with; we argued about how to spend money and where to spend it; we gritted our teeth while fighting over which furniture to purchase for our apartment – four months after moving in together. We had dissimilar ideas about everything, and soon it seemed like our relationship was at a standstill.
But that’s the thing about any relationship: it’s never going to be easy. I realize that because our differences are more highlighted than ever, Bee and I have stepped beyond the niceties of our relationship comfort zone. And yet, there’s always something bringing it back. It’s not about how compatible we are as two separate people trying to find equal footing, but how compatible we are as a couple. I may not like his atrocious blue cheese salad dressing, but we will both offer the same advice to a friend in need. He hates my reality television obsession, but we’ll both keep an open mind about the new foreign film opening in limited release. We often find little to share about our days in two very different job-related industries, but we always find time to laugh at Miss Teen South Carolina together. These small, seemingly insignificant occurrences are what relationships are all about. It’s not how much two people can check off a mutual list, but how much two people are willing to learn from one another in order to grow.
After all, compatibility lies in the fundamentals, not the surface stuff. ¤ C.Ho.
Next Month: Dr. Phil asks Christine to stop sending him letters that ask him why she's so neurotic.