When I first started hearing about my friend’s brother, it was intimidating. He was portrayed in such a way that it sounded like he was above us all. It amazed me how smart this stranger was. It fascinated me how capable this stranger was.
I would hear stories of him helping his sister (my friend) on the homework neither of us understood. I would listen to her talking about how advanced he was in university. I would put him on this pedestal, thinking he had something more than us normal people didn’t.
Then I met him.
Awkward. Reserved. Intelligent. Confident. Cute.
He had some kind of charm to him. His intelligence was attractive. The way he held himself was intriguing.
We started talking. We started hanging out and learning about the different things in each other’s life. We asked each other about the music we listened to, and discovered that neither of us had heard of the artists the other listened to. We laughed a lot. We joked around and make sassy comments. We had fun.
Today, my friend’s brother is my boyfriend.
Reserved. Intelligent. Logical. Cocky. Stubborn. Cute. Dork.
I know he has his flaws. I know, now, that he doesn’t belong on any kind of pedestal because he is just another person like you and me. I know about what pisses him off and how he has his tantrums of irritation. I know that he loves In-n-Out. I know that he is picky with his food. I know that he loves soft blankets. I know that he would rather speak about something than sweep things under the rug.
I love hearing about how he views life around us. I love debating our different viewpoints; he is driven by logic more and I am drive by emotions more. I love seeing how we balance each other out, the concept of yin and yang coming back into my life once again. I love experiencing the world with him. I love talking to him just about everyday things. I love having him in my life.
I realize, now, that clashing with someone doesn’t automatically mean failure in any way. We learn from each other. We learn with each other.