The Mystery of Compatibility
It’s not Tweedledee and Tweedledum
She prefers the soft, pliant round top of the English muffin with a jam compliment.
I favor the hard, coarser bottom topped with honey.
Rebecca likes classic colors and dresses tastefully.
I don’t.
She sleeps until seven, while I get up at four.
I mainly read nonfiction, and she’s partial to stories.
Rebecca is comfortable moving forward without knowing, but I must be sure before taking a step.
Politically, Rebecca is purple; I’m flashing blue.
She believes in a spirit world; I’m skeptical.
Rebecca is 73, and I’m 75. We met 13 years ago. Our first date was at a Panera Bread, roughly halfway between my northeast and her southwest Iowa home.
She was divorced for two years after a 40-year marriage, while my break-up was a decade gone. E-harmony was the link. I had been on the dating site for two years; Rebecca had just joined.
My former wife suggested I try the online site. We shared a son and were still friends. One of Rebecca’s daughters said, “You’re not going to find anyone compatible in your town,” and helped her write a profile.
As you can see from the photo, Panera Bread was a little closer to my home than hers. I arrived early and staked out a table to see the front door. We’d shared a couple of emails and pictures. It’s surprising how many people resemble the person you meet for the first time.
Coffee shops were my go-to meeting place because they let you sit and talk. Years later, Rebecca told me she had wanted to meet at another Ames restaurant with better food. Today, when we visit Ames, we eat at her favorite place, not mine.
After many false Rebecca’s came through the Panera door, I recognized the genuine person immediately. Her photo had not been shopped. We both ordered coffee. Two hours later, we decided to walk around Iowa State University, where I had attended graduate school thirty years earlier. She accepted my offer to drive the five miles to campus. During our walk, we brushed against each other, a brief touch of comfort that meant little at the time but we would recollect years later.
Returning to the restaurant, we ordered lunch and talked for another 90 minutes. When I walked her to her car, we said we’d stay in touch.
Two months later, we had our second date at a street art fair in Des Moines. As we walked through the exhibits, Rebecca stopped in front of a painting from Columbia and described why she liked it. I looked at it, thought a bit, and said something contrary. I don’t remember what. We moved on to the next display.
Later that day, after lunch, Rebecca and I passed a Dairy Queen ice cream store in her car. I said, “Do you like Dairy Queen blizzards?” She nodded yes and ordered a Heath Bar; I ordered a Snickers.
We had the same combination yesterday from northeast Iowa’s Whippy Dip and will have it from southwest Iowa’s Frosty Trete on Saturday.
My favorite definition of compatibility is “able to exist together in harmony.” I suppose E-harmony carries that mantle for a reason. Rebecca and I have lived under the same roofs for seven years. We maintain two homes because we each have a long history in our communities. Eventually, when we can no longer travel, we will settle in one place.
Meeting later in life is complicated. We’re pretty much who we have become. We have different children, friends, likes and dislikes, quirks, obsessions, and many other dissimilarities.
Some are small, really, like Heath Bar rather than Snickers. Others are bigger, like what happens after death.
How do we live together with these differences? What’s the glue that keeps us together? What values bind us?
Let me finish with a story. You are free to interpret it as you wish.
When Rebecca and I retired from our jobs in 2018, we went to the closest Social Security Office. One question was how our decision to take Social Security would affect our former spouses. The official looked at us and said no one had ever asked her that question because most people don’t care much about their former partners.
We both did. Do. That’s something we share.
Rich, the father of Rebecca’s three children, died three days ago. Rebecca joined her three children in visiting him in first the hospital and then under hospice care. I was a welcome part of the entourage.
Today, we will travel to Clarinda in southwest Iowa to arrange the funeral along with Jonathon, Rebecca’s son.
This may seem strange to you. It doesn’t to either of us. It seems natural.
As natural as the Diary Queen Heath and Snicker blizzards, we will have along the way between our homes.
If you’re interested, here is the fuller back story.
