Matters of Perspective

January 26, 2010

Living with the City Boy has its wondrous moments.  His perspective is often very different than mine when it comes to the way of the world.  When we first met I fell in love with his optimism and ambition, because it so closely matched mine.  I loved his little quirks – he is a steel trap for dates and trivia about people’s lives.  He is fascinated with ages for some reason … if he hears someone’s birthday, he instantly figures how much older or younger he is than the person, he overlays this information with the ages of people in his life and gauges the person based upon their generation, and how closely they fit in relation to time with others he knows.  Right now, as I’m typing this I think this little quirk about him is adorable … however, when he’s sitting right beside me talking about this marvel of someone’s age it can be terribly annoying. 

I love how he connects with people.  I’ve said this before, but before I met him I thought I was a nice person … I would be pleasant to people, always smile and nod at passersby, etc.  But the City Boy puts my passive little niceties to shame!  He doesn’t stop at smiling and nodding at someone … he practically stops them in their tracks to ask how their day is going.  He befriends strangers right off the street!  He makes me feel like a troll!!  But, I love this about him.  I love that he isn’t intimidated by others.  I love that he is confident and caring enough to make someone’s day just by saying “hello”.

However, one fall back to living with the City Boy is his “paranoia”, or at least that’s what I think it is.  He calls it being aware of his surroundings, and he thinks I’m “too lax” about everything.  I’m too laid back – this I think is hilarious because my entire family would scream the opposite.  So, if the rest of the world thinks I’m uptight and he thinks I’m too laid back, what the hell does that make him?  Exactly! 

For example, one wonderful part of living in Orlando in the winter time is that often times we can leave the doors and windows open in the evenings.  The other day, I had the sliding glass door in the back of the house open.  City Boy walks into the room and asks if I’ve closed the screen, to which I responded “Yes.  The screen is closed – no bugs are coming inside.”  Do you know what his next statement was?  “Well, I just want to make sure we keep the back door closed.  You never know when a stray dog will come into the backyard and see the back door is open.  Next thing you know, we’ll have a house with a dangerous dog in it.”

Yes, America.  I’m not kidding.  I think it’s so cute, his City-fied self.  He makes me feel like some rough and worn cowgirl or something, even though I’m from the suburbs of Cincinnati … but I was raised in the best of both worlds … the city 15 miles away, and farms and creeks and barefooted summer days anytime I wanted them – unless it was snowing of course.

So, there is a running joke in our house that I’m the laid back outdoorsy type and he’s the paranoid city kid.  Ha, ha!  Well, I worked from home today and the fresh air coming in from the sliding glass was so nice that I decided to leave the door open while I went upstairs to take a shower.  Even though I left it open, the thought ran through my head several times that it was possible that someone could find themselves in my backyard while I was upstairs and let themselves in, but I didn’t let that thought of something with such a low probability of happening force me into shutting out the fresh air on such a nice day.  I laughed at myself that City boy was infiltrating my judgement.

I took my shower, and began to blow dry my hair, with the whispering thought in my head that someone could be inside my house right now and I wouldn’t hear them over the sound of the dryer.  Just then, I looked up at the mirror in front of me and with my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of someone in the medicine cabinet and almost.had.a.heart.attack!  I didn’t recognize that little glimpse as someone who could be me.  I thought it was an intruder, IN MY BATHROOM, ready to knock me down.  My entire body experienced a split second of shock and fear.

Thank goodness it was just me, and not the boogie man.  But, that little experience did teach me something – it’s better to be laid back and be surprised by something tragic that happens, than be worried on a chronic basis about things that have a very low likelihood of occurring.  Am I right?  What do you think?