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If you truly know me and Cindy, then you can understand the phrase “opposites attract.” Actually, that is a misinterpretation. The phrase should be “opposites attack.”
Cindy and I are just not on the same sheet of music. We disagree on almost everything, even small things, and it leads to some pretty bazaar arguments that resemble old “Abbott and Costello” comedy routines.
Let’s take the first time I took Cindy on a date. We went to Louisville for a movie, when I noticed her unusual body thermostat that swings violently back and forth.
It was a beautiful late spring night. The show ended and we got in the car when Cindy’s teeth started chattering. My teeth chatter too, but it’s only because I talk so much and not because I get cold.
Cindy said, “Can you turn on the heat?”
“Sure,” I said, and click it up a notch.
“Higher please. I‘m really cold.”
“You‘re cold? It’s kind of hot in here already.”
“I’m really cold,” Cindy said, and I was amazed to see her teeth continue to chatter.
As we were in the dating phase, I immediately cranked up the heat another notch or two, though the heat was already at the point that my deodorant was starting to kick in.
“How about a little bit higher?”
I began to wonder if this wasn’t some sort of weird joke she was playing, though we really didn’t know each other that well. I looked over at her through the jungle mist that was rising up out of the car from all the heat to see she was serious.
“Good grief, what’s wrong with the woman,” I thought, as I cranked up the heat until it was blowing at full gale force so it could melt glaciers and bring on global warming all by itself.
The sweat started pouring off me in buckets as I kept glancing sideways at Cindy while we drove back to Springfield. She sat in her seat, began to purr like a kitten with her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face.
“My gosh,” I thought, “I could fry eggs on the dash right now.”
Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I felt faint like I was going to pass out from the heat and dehydration, as pools of sweat poured out of me. Yet, being a young man, I didn’t want to risk confrontation with Cindy and lose my goodnight kiss.
So, I eased open my window a tiny crack after about 10 minutes so some cool air could flow across an inch of my sweaty forehead.
Cindy’s eyes immediately popped open and she looked at me with her angry eyes and said, “What are you doing? It just got good and toasty in here.”
In my most loving and patient voice I replied, “I’m about to pass out from the heat! Don’t you see the sweat rolling off me? What’s wrong with you anyway? Do you think when I die I’m going to the ‘bad place’ and you want me to practice up here on earth before I go?”
Then out loud, I said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me close that window right now.”
Hey, I’m not stupid after all. I did want that goodnight kiss.
We have the same reaction on most everything. You name it brother, everything from where to eat out, what radio station to listen to, what television program to watch, whether to spend or save, and on and on and on.
It just never seems to end to what we don’t agree on, even when we supposedly do.
Here’s another for instance.
We went to Pigeon Forge, Tenn. last weekend for a two-day getaway. We had finished up the trip, and on the way home Cindy said, “I want to go to the Christian bookstore over there.”
“Over there” was on the opposite side of the highway from us with four lanes of non-stop traffic to cross. Nevertheless, I pulled over to the turn lane to wait the required half hour for an opening to get across while risking life, limb, and car to do so.
Cindy finally says after a few minutes, “Forget it. Let’s just go.”
“Great” I say and head the car out of the turn lane and back down the highway.
Cindy then said, “You told me you would take me to the Christian bookstore!”
“You just told me to forget it because the traffic was too bad!”
“But I just said that because I knew you didn’t want to try to cross the road.”
“It’s four lanes of traffic and you said it was OK to forget it.”
“Yeah but you weren’t supposed to listen to me. You were supposed to take me to the Christian bookstore.”
I pulled back over to the next turn lane.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the Christian bookstore.”
“Aw you don’t have to do that. There’s too much traffic. Let‘s go home.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I’m not falling for that one again. I’m going to the Christian bookstore if it’s the last thing I do on earth!”
“Aren’t you just a sweety. You don‘t have to. We can go on home.”
“Are you sure?”
“You better bring me to that Christian bookstore, or else!”
I went into the Christian bookstore with Cindy.
But I didn’t have many Christian thoughts while I did it.
You can’t live with them and you can’t live with them.