She likes her toast well done; a touch of burnt suits her fine. She has been known to let it cool before applying butter. I like mine golden, and I like to butter it while hot, so that the butter melts right in.
She prefers her bacon crisp — very crisp. I like mine to be taken from the pan just before it gets crisp. Cuppa will say, "Slice my apples thinly please, and just a little peanut butter will do." I slice mine thicker and dole out almost twice as much peanut butter for myself.
There exists a photo of Cuppa and AC leaving their wedding reception together, or not so together. AC, with suitcase and garment bag in hand, is heading towards the getaway car; Cuppa is blithely striding off in the other direction — to where she supposes the car should be. That's what I reckon anyway, but I confess to never having officially cleared up that point of confusion.
It goes on and on, this list of differences. Cuppa becomes mesmerized by the first thing she sees upon entering a store while Anvilcloud's penetrating gaze searches for the commodity that drew them into the store in the first place. That makes sense though, doesn't it? That's not just personal taste but an evolutionary inheritance. If we men were the hunters, we had to be focussed, couldn't be distracted from making the kill. I mean to say, if you're trying to find a moose to kill and eat, you can't be distracted by every plant and blade of grass on your way. You'll never track a moose that way. Likewise, if women were the gatherers, it follows that they would look all around evaluating the possibilities presented by every object that they scanned. (Before bloggers everywhere decide to flame me for such stereotyping, permit me to quickly add that I understand that there are wide behavioural variations between the two poles that I have just presented. I am almost positive that some women are fantastic hunters and that some men are superb gatherers. And in case you don't recognize it, that's my nod to political correctness. You're welcome.)
Trips and events bring out our differences rather grandly. For our recent Arizona adventure, it was I who made the travel arrangements, planned the itinerary, booked hotels and arranged the tours. I seem to be able to organize and plan trips. However, when we moved last year, Cuppa carried the lion's share (lioness's share?) of the load, for she has the ability to organize our home space much better than a dithering AC. I joke that she can pack two suitcases and sixteen bags (the bags are another story, however) faster (or more efficiently) than I can pack up my laptop and camera. When I say that's a joke, I really am joking because in point of fact it really isn't much of a joke. It's more truth than jest.
We don't seem to question who does what. It just seems to happen in the regular flow of our river.
Remember the nursery rhyme?
Jack Spratt could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean;
And so between the two of them,
They licked the platter clean.
Nursery rhymes tell truth, or at least this one does. Differences are good; they can be synergistic. A couple can be, should be stronger than the sum of its parts. You probably know that because you are no longer kids either. But some people don't know; they think that compatibility is all about sameness. In my experience that simply isn't true. It's beneficial to like some of the same things, and it is important to share many similar values, but it's fine to be different too and have lots of independent interests.