Over the weekend in Portland, Dave and I visited one of the restaurants we used to frequent for breakfast. We don’t like to wait at restaurants. Or rather, I’m ambivalent. But Dave super hates waiting in line for pretty much anything. The ferocity of his dislike balances out my ambivalence. So I can just say “we don’t like waiting for a table.”
Thankfully, this restaurant has both good breakfast and there is no wait, even on a weekend. The server recognized us though we haven’t visited in four months. We sat down, got our coffee and ordered our breakfast.
Then, in unison, Dave and I pulled out our phones and busily started poking away.
We are one of THOSE couples.
An outside observer would assume we disliked each other. They might look at us and think we were the embodiment of a hackneyed cliche. They might think we don’t appreciate the beautiful person sitting across the table from us. Or in the very least, we were being rude.
We ought to be talking to each other, instead of burying our noses into our phones, right? We ought to be telling each about our day, sharing our lives, canoodling over our coffee. Life is just passing us by, and we don’t even look up to see it.
Sound familiar? Haven’t we all had these thoughts about someone at some point?
However. Do you have any inkling how much goddamned time we spend together? We both work from home, in the same room, together. We go on walks together. We spend hours in the car together. We visit Portland, go to events, catch up with friends, and visit family, together. We go on trips, camp outdoors, and hike goddamned mountains, together. Together, together, together. Pretty much 24 hours a day, every day.
All this togetherness, and we still like each other. We have no pretense about finding meaning in every moment we spend in each others’ presence. Because that would be fricken exhausting. If he sits across from me and taps away at his phone, I know he’s not being rude. He’s checking his twitter feed. I know this, because I’m doing it too. We might even be having a conversation over Twitter. That’s so awful, isn’t it? Could we be bigger douche bags? How can we even stand ourselves?
But we have an understanding. And we are remarkably compatible. We can be silent, and be perfectly comfortable in our own little worlds. Together. We don’t feel the need to play any parts, even under the glare of coffee drinking, breakfast eating public scrutiny. We understand each other perfectly.