Remember what it’s like when you first fall in love with someone? Everything they do is cute or charming or endearing. You are struck, over and over again, by how alike you are: “When Harry Met Sally” is your favorite movie, too? You like margaritas but hate gin-and-tonics? You’re liberal on social issues but want a balanced budget and a strong defense, just like me?
Oh, those days of infatuation are fun. You keep finding things that you have in common, shared interests, ways in which you see eye-to-eye on the big issues. You want to learn more and more about the other person, and as you do, you’re even more amazed at how much you like them. It’s exciting, exhilarating, affirming. Even things that might otherwise irk you (say, snoring) are turned on their head, into something charming (his snoring is so cute! It’s like a reminder that he’s next to me in bed!)
But then one day, reality strikes. You discover something about that person that is different from you. Maybe it’s something little: he is passionate about golf and you think it’s a waste of a perfectly good park. Or something big: she goes to church every Sunday morning without fail, and you’re an atheist who likes to sleep ‘til noon on Sunday. That endearing little habit of snoring suddenly starts keeping you awake at night.
I used to share a beach house with a bunch of single professionals, and a great many of them only stuck around in a relationship while it was in the exciting, exhilarating, infatuation phase. “What ever happened to Kathy?” we’d ask. “I found out she had a nose job when she was younger, and now she just seems so fake to me.“ Or “How are things with Ryan going?” “We broke up. He was really into camping, and who wants to sleep in a tent when you can stay in a perfectly nice hotel?”
But real life isn’t like that. Anybody who’s been in a relationship measured in years instead of weeks can tell you that with every couple, there comes a time when you stop seeing all the similarities and start seeing all the differences. And consciously or unconsciously, at some point after that, you make a decision whether to keep going or call it quits. She likes going to church every morning but you’re an atheist; you can either call the whole thing off, or try to figure out if that different approach to religion is really a dealbreaker. Maybe you have a long conversation, or several long conversations, about religion or the lack thereof. Maybe you discover that she has her doubts, too, but she finds it comforting to keep going to church each week, as a form of stress release. Maybe you discover that she is firmly committed to her religious views, but doesn’t care if you aren’t; the next thing you know, she goes to church, you sleep in, and you start a lovely tradition of having breakfast at a local diner when you’re up and she’s done. But if you bail before exploring it any further, you’ll never know, will you?
Lately I’ve heard a lot of muttering from progressives about their waning enthusiasm for Barack Obama. “But he voted for FISA immunity, and I think he shouldn’t have.” “I hate his latest commercial with the celebrity theme!” “He shouldn’t put offshore oil drilling on the table, even as part of a larger energy package.”
I agree with some of these points of dispute (e.g. FISA immunity) and disagree with others (I like the McCain-as-celebrity commercial). But you know what? I’m not breaking up with Obama just yet. I’m willing to learn more about him, to hear what he has to say about why he’s done things I disagree with. I’m willing to stay in this relationship and see how it works out. I’ve been married for almost thirteen years and I know that it’s entirely possible to disagree with someone on some things, maybe even some important things, but also to realize that agreeing to disagree on some issues is worth the many tremendous things about the relationship. I can put up with the obsessive-compulsive cleaning thing (You want to clean the bathroom instead of going out to dinner?!) because my husband is so patient and sweet with the kids. He can put up with my irrational anxiety (No, honey, I don’t think the babysitter looks like a serial killer) because I can always make him laugh.
I don’t think it’s possible to find a life partner – or a political candidate – with whom I agree on every issue, big and small, 100 percent of the time. I think it’s possible to forge a relationship that’s good – pretty damn great, in fact – even if there’s times when the other person disappoints me, or hurts my feelings, or surprises me by changing his mind or expressing a different opinion than I thought he would.
That approach has worked well for the last twelve-plus years of my marriage. I’m willing to see how it works when it comes to a political candidate. And not just any political candidate, but a political candidate who I still think has the potential to be The One.
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