A metaphor for my relationship...or some shit like that

When it came time to buy a new computer I came home with a bright white MacBook. My husband came home with a black MacBook.

When it came time to buy and Ipod I came home with a shiny white one, the hubs of course a back one.

My husband drives a black Tahoe. His plates refer to it being all black. His lights are black, his rims are black everything on the car is black.

Today, I purchased a very very white Yukon.

A friend looked at us today and said, these things seem to define the two of you. There is no gray there is only black and white. We looked at each other and laughed. The two of us could not be more different. More set in our ways. He's black, I'm white and together we form a ying yang rather then combining to make gray.

The colors seem to symbolize so much more. While we both like things clean we have a different version of clean. He likes things tidy, I like them CLEAN. Meaning, I wash my stove while I cook. I clean my tile daily. I like things clean. My husband doesn't mind as long as long as they appear clean. Which seems to be why I would pick a white computer. Something I know I will have to clean. While he picked black. His computer will always appear clean while not really being clean.

He likes things easy. You don't have to do much to a black computer the dirtier it gets the blacker it is right? I like things difficult. I buy a white car, and white Ipod and white computer knowing it will be more work to wipe it down twice weekly. I make things difficult. Although carpet was easier to clean and you just had to run a vacuum across it, I chose hardwood. My thoughts are that I want to see the dirt. I don't want to know its hiding in the folds of the carpet. So while hardwood is more work, and I have to sweep and mop every few days, I like to know what I'm dealing with. That is how I am in life. I need to know all the facts. I need to see it right in front of my face. I need every single detail down to what flavor gum you were chewing when you were walking down the street. I need to be able to see the full mess in front of me. There is no way to hide things on white.

Rob on the other way is vague. He rarely gets details. He barely remembers to ask the names of friends kids. Rob doesn't mind not knowing. He lives his life like his black electronics. You can hide more with black. You can ignore it better. If you can't see it, it's not there.

Our relationship is that way. Black and white. I need to talk everything to death. Rob is content to not fix what isn't broken. If I don't cry or yell he would never know there was a problem. I hate that he doesn't talk things to death. I want my husband to be bright white like my toys. I need to see all the problems, the flaws the issues. My husband wants me to be black. He wants me to live well enough alone.

I can't believe something as simple as buying a new car in a certain color could really make me examine how truly different Rob and I are. The one thing about the two of us though, if anything we are constant. And while we probably both wish their was a little gray in each other, I'm not sure our relationship would ever flourish with gray. Gray is boring.