My husband, Suhale, wakes up in the morning, fresh-faced and ready for a workout. To him, a combination of push ups, squats and skips gets him energised and motivated for his day. He is a runner. Some mornings I wake up to find him back home from a quick and refreshing 10km run that he just felt like doing.
Waking up to a person who achieves physical feats I wouldn’t dare attempt before the start of day does baffle me. But at the same time, I am impressed by his mental and physical strength, endurance and commitment.
I have never been a lover of breaking a sweat. I am caught in the pursuit of appearing cool, calm and collected. Nothing sounds as humiliating to me as shuffling up a hill, surrounded by vest-wearing, “10 kay” runners at some ungodly hour of the morning.
I believe in quality experiences and moments that are worth internalising. I love art, music, poetry, design, writing, creating, quinoa, Instagram, and indie films. My idea of an active day out is a city stroll, punctuated by distractions of kitsch neighbourhood post boxes, mixed-breed pets, and urban typefaces. As you can imagine, Suhale and I have had some differences in what we perceive to be ideal quality time.
Some moments have been good for us. Others are painful to revisit. There was the time I tried scuba diving, in the spirit of sharing a hobby Suhale loves. I hated the experience, due to my asthma. That left me disappointed and feeling I had failed him. Dragging Suhale through the Pompidou Centre in Paris left him bored and indifferent, while the postmodern art exhibition fascinated me.
But thanks to but our common interest in trying new things, we found a balance in discovering and sharing new experiences. We have travelled the world. We have photographed our cats doing funny things. We share an entrepreneurial spirit. We complement each other’s skill sets and appreciate each other’s differences. Now and again, we surprise each other with a new shared interest.
The brainstorming we do when we get new ideas, the conversations we have over humour, the jingles we make up on our drives, and the grief we shared when one of our cats died all brought us closer.
Having different interests, and being different people, has not torn us apart. It has broadened our horizons, and given us a place to remain true to ourselves, while accepting each other. It has helped us develop new, shared interests we would never have known if we had never met. Being different is more than okay. It’s wonderful.
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