I like control.
I thrive on a well laid out plan, a high-lighted map with a clearly lined path, and reservations made months in advance (and calling the front desk the day before...just to make sure). Dinner menu's are planned out a week before hand and always shopped for from a very specific list. Clothes for the next day are laid out the night before. Pencils, Pens, they do not belong in the same cubby. You catch the drift.
Jeremy, is opposite. He's okay with reading the sky instead of the clock, with heading to town and driving in circles, sticking his head out the window to see which restaurant smells good that night, and cramming not the night before, but hours before a test. Mesh the two together and you get grey area. I l-o-v-e grey area. It is where two worlds can collide and hold hands.
Jeremy and I live there. Most of the time. I find we spar when that grey area is stretched to the black or white side, when one of us boldly steps both feet across the boundaries to stand on a color with enough purpose and conviction that it cannot be grey. There are times when colors must be chosen, but grey is what matters, when we can both lay out our truths and let the best parts of us muddle into a color that is not black or white. A shared space. We are so polar opposite in so many ways, but grey has been good to us. We've been dancing there for the past seventeen years.
Check out my handsome hubby. meow.
And, my cutie patootie:
It started to rain when it was my turn, so here it is:
So, remember to enjoy your grey area. Some people call it compromise, I call it grey.
It makes for a great dance floor, or an awesome place to make out, if that's your style.