Sunday column: Opposites attract

To tell you the truth, I never really believed the whole "opposites attract" cliché until it happened to me.
After all, how could two people at opposite ends of the spectrum truly get along, much less fall in love? It's simply not logical, which makes it hard for me, with my Type A tendencies, to accept.
Yet here I am, married to a man who by all accounts is my opposite. A few examples should prove my point.

Messy vs. neat: The never-ending battle
I wouldn't go so far as to describe myself as a "neat freak," but I do tend to prefer that the areas where I spend time — my house, my cubicle at work — are at least picked up. Husband Nick, on the other hand, doesn't mind a bit if every visible surface is piled high with an impressive layer of clean and dirty clothes, papers, magazines, dog toys, food wrappers, etc.
I've even tested his limits of messiness: I'll restrain myself for days, without telling him what I'm doing, and refuse to pick up anything as the piles grow, waiting to see how long it takes before Nick makes even the slightest move to rearrange something. But no — he always outlasts me.

Type A vs. Type B: The personality clash
As a person who has been called an overachiever for years, you can understand how it may be difficult for me to witness my husband's lackadaisical approach toward life. While I'm "on" from the moment I wake up until the minute my head hits the pillow at night, he just glides through his day with nary a moment of visible stress. During times of anxiety, my reaction is to do something — anything — to try to make the situation better. His solution is to simply wait for it to go away or for someone else (read: me) to fix it. I plan out my days and make a list for just about everything; he can't be bothered with schedules. This arrangement causes me to stress out on his behalf, which probably isn't good for my blood pressure. Somehow, though, he usually manages to take care of his business.

Dogs vs. cats: The fur flies
Although I admit I've been on the path to conversion for the past year or so, I've always been a cat person. Nick, of course, is a dog person. So when he had the bright idea to get a dog last year, I begrudgingly agreed. But, I was completely unprepared for how that addition to our little family would affect my life. Don't get me wrong — I like Casey the dog, but boy is she high-maintenance. There's the feeding and the walking and constantly taking her outside. With cats, just dump some food in the bowl and change the litter once a week. Going out of town for the weekend? No problem, just double the food and the litter allowances and have a great trip. With dogs, things aren't nearly as simple.

Quiet vs. loud: The definition of "yelling"
I've written before about being a naturally loud person. It's something I can't help — I come from a big, Italian family. Most of the time, I don't even realize when I'm being loud or "yelling." To Nick, "yelling" is anything above that "inside voice" teachers used to force us to use back in first grade (I probably don't have to say that I was no good at that). No matter how many times I try to explain that just because I raise my voice, I'm not angry, Nick still hears it that way. Meanwhile, he's a naturally shy, quiet person who doesn't yell when he gets angry. Instead, he goes silent. To me, that's much worse than being yelled at. If he'd just shout at me, I'd know how to handle that.

Surprises vs. no surprises: The Christmas challenge
It may be juvenile, but I love surprises. Ever since I was young I'd hold out for my birthday and not open a single gift early — even if Mom said I could. Despite my preference for planning, happy surprises bring me great joy. Nick, however, hates surprises, no matter how good they are. He simply cannot wait until Christmas Day to open Christmas presents. Last year, he even ruined my surprise. The day he bought my Christmas gift (about a week before the big day) he called me and blabbed what he just got me before I could stop him. He can't seem to help himself, so I've taken to hiding his gifts until the day he's technically supposed to open them. That way, I can still manage to truly surprise him.

Chocolate vs. vanilla: The dessert compromise
Oh, and there's one more thing. I like chocolate ice cream; he likes vanilla. Our solution: Neapolitan, the best of both.