I found out this morning that the love of my life prefers the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, and I’m not sure what to do about this.
I reminded her that 1,517 poor souls lost their lives in the Atlantic’s cold waters back in April of 1912 but she didn’t care.
I told her that I’ve been in the Pacific, felt and tasted its water, sunned on its beaches, photographed it from Big Sur...nothing.
I pointed out that the Pacific comprises 46 percent of the earth’s water surface, is 63.8 million square miles wide, has an average depth of 14,000 feet and is known as “Mar Pacifico,” meaning “Peaceful Sea” in Portuguese. She was unmoved.
Once Anita makes up her mind about something, makes a choice or decision, that’s it. It’s awfully hard to change her mind.
On one hand, this is a good thing. She seems strong and powerful and self-assured to me. I dig how she makes her bed and lies in it, and knows what she wants and doesn’t want.
On the other hand, it’s frustrating if I don’t agree with her, if I want a different choice or see things differently or think she’s wrong.
Like with the Atlantic, for example, which is only 41.1 million square miles wide, only covers 26 percent of the earth’s water surface, and is known by the British as “The Pond,” for Pete’s sake.
Bigger isn’t always better, she reminds me in a not-too-subtle reference to the fact that I’ve gained weight in the past few years.
Just because I know that compromise and flexibility are essential to a good relationship, that I have to choose my battles, that some things aren’t important in the whole scheme of things, doesn’t mean it’s not a challenge to carve out a life with someone who prefers the Atlantic to the Pacific.
She’s just lucky we agree that Simon Cowell is unnecessarily harsh to the contestants on X Factor. I couldn’t live with a Cowell supporter.
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