Rubbed the Wrong Way

June 9 , 2000

You ever notice how when two people are married for a long time they start to look alike? You look at grandma and grandpa's wedding photos and you see two young, possibly attractive, excited, very different people, staring back at you. If you're in your 40's and are still lucky enough to have your grandparents take a good look at them. They likely look like they could be brother and sister, or at very least cousins.

Same thing with people and their pets. You see a wizened old man walking down the street with his wizened old dog on a leash. There's more than a passing resemblance.

When two people share an appreciable amount of time together, for example being married to one another, things are bound to rub off. You finish each other's sentences. You know your mate's quirks and oddities.

You share so much time together that you sometimes find that things you used to like you don't anymore, because your spouse doesn't. Things you didn't like or know you've possibly grown fond of, or have developed a working knowledge of. Some things fall out of your repertoire while others are added.

I don't know if there's a specific amount of time it takes for this transition to occur, but occur it does. And I think it takes less time than I could have possibly imagined.

Chuck and I will soon be celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary. I put our relationship time together at somewhere around the eight year mark and we've known each other almost ten years.

The thing is, coming in to our relationship, Chuck and I were pretty much opposites. We come from very different backgrounds. He's Catholic. I'm Jewish. I grew up in New York, in the city. He grew up in a variety of small towns, mostly in the south and Midwest. My family was comfortable financially. His, not so much. We came at life and situations very differently. He's a black and white kinda guy. Me, I'm more gray areas. Yet, we found each other. We came together. We got married. And now we're our own family. But you really couldn't find two more different people.

At least at first.

For quite some time now, we've finished each other's sentences. We are often thinking of the same thing at the exact same time. We come to the same, or very similar punchlines. We think the same kinds of weird things.

I'm not suggesting that being like my husband is a bad thing but it's weird.

I'm certain there are ways I've rubbed off on him. It's the him rubbing off on me that has me a little crazy right now.

Case in point: Sister #1 is here from London. She, Sister #2, and I went to the movies on Wednesday. We went to see Small Time Crooks, the new Woody Allen movie.

Even though I usually get to pick the movies Chuck and I see together, I knew there was no way in hell he'd go with me to see a Woody Allen movie. He hates Woody Allen. He finds Woody whiney at the very least. Me. I like Woody Allen. I've liked almost all of his movies. I just don't get to see them in the theater anymore.

But my sisters like Woody Allen movies too. Perfect choice for an afternoon outing.

My sisters liked the movie. They thought it was Woody being Woody. Kind of like what you go to a Woody Allen movie for.

Me. . . I found myself checking the time after about an hour into the movie and then every five minutes thereafter, as the minutes ticking away felt like hours as I endured.

Oh. My. God. I hated the movie. I found Woody to be annoying and obnoxious. The constant whining and kvetching was making me crazy. I walked out of the theater and realized I'd turned into my husband.

The worst part of the whole thing was not a movie I didn't enjoy. The worst part was coming home and having to say that I didn't like the movie and why. Oh the joy on Chuck's face. I could have slapped that smug smile right from his fuzzy face.

But I couldn't do that. It would be like slapping my own face.

Until next time...