Reversed Polarities

         No motion stirred the still vesper as we lay, sheltered by the walls of her room yet unable to fully evade the chill December air's domain. There, time spun its loom in silence as I tried to grasp the proper phrase. I paused, breathed then broke the stillness by saying, "You're like nothing I've ever known before... but all I've ever wanted."
         The beautiful girl huddled beside me responded with a kiss, mirroring, in the moment, all my affections, even if she reflected nothing else from me. Her demeanor, her past, her aspirations and her home differed much from my own. Yet, through this divergence of character, we found the fuel for our love and, later, the catalyst for our defection.
         I met Jaycie while working at my first real job, West Telemarketing, a corporate beast that specialized in recruiting irresponsible youths and equipping them with inadequate information to sell unnecessary products. It happened one night as the seats about me emptied and the frequency of the calls slowed. I sat, burying my nose in a book, trying hard to ignore the fact that she was trying hard to get my attention, but her persistence, luckily, worked. We fell into fluid conversation, imbibing the other's words as we told of who we felt we were and where we knew we came from.
         She grew up in a rural setting, a five acre wildlife refuge. She had dozens of pets, ranging from the traditional company of cats and dogs to the not-so-traditional roosters, rats, pygmy goats and pot bellied pigs. It was a comfortable place, prone to holiday gatherings and home-cooked meals, echoing with the sound of southern adages and Foggy Mountain melodies, and it was the only place she had ever called home. I, on the other hand, grew up as a city nomad. Shuffled from relative to relative or friend to friend, in youth I'd eagerly name any room with a roof above it, home. I called the empty lot between two buildings a "forest" and a three-legged dog an exotic pet, while my version of a nature hike involved scrambling through the bushes and over the fences of backyards while making the mile long walk to the nearest Shipley's Doughnuts.
         Stability was not unusual to Jaycie. In my visits with her family I quickly felt welcomed as her mother greeted me with an abundance of hospitality and endearment. It served as a definite shock when thinking of my own mother who would often lay on the couch for hours, insistent on the fact that she wasn't sleeping but trying to think, who'd approach me and say, "Josh, when do you think Craig is coming back home from his vacation?" and who I replied to by saying, "My name is Michael and Craig doesn't live here because you divorced him three years ago."
         Our homes sat as worlds apart and our personalities even further. Confidence radiated from Jaycie's every action, with few gestures given any further consideration after they fluttered from her hands, contrasting perfectly my timid nature. I could dwell for minutes, hours, even days at a time upon any given motion to the outside world. Too much time and too many chances passed before I gained certainty on whether or not my choices were right. Not for Jaycie, though. For her, if opportunities weren't given, they were created. When she created the opportunity to enter my life, for once, I fully embraced it. Opposites attract and so did we, contrasting like night and day and loving like there was no tomorrow.
         Eight years passed. We slowly shed the wide-eyed wonder of teenage hope and love. Our differences, always apparent, become more publicly pronounced. She chastised me for my sensitivity and I detested her abrasive quips. She always had something to say but never seemed to truly communicate. She listened to others only to find another excuse to have them listen to her, beguiling the speaker to a false sense of understanding. She criticized and belittled everything she saw and everyone she knew in an attempt to compensate for her own insecurities. She was selfish and material, self-loathing and fickle. I began to wonder how my timidity could ever find solace in such abrasion. I gave silence only for the purpose of understanding and accepting others. I found material possessions unnecessary and wasteful and, when I made a promise, I stuck to it.
         Distance grew by the ways we differed and what would once compliment the other seemed only to encumber. We made futile attempts for reconciliation but, stubbornly we had chosen where we stood in life. Petty arguments erupted regularly. An underlying bitterness towards everything the other was grew. Neither one of us could exercise the will to try, with an open mind, anything the other would suggest. Communication decayed and, in its place, paranoia cultured. She lied to me; I knew it. She cheated on me; I dismissed it. Despite the friction in our lives, we both refused to let the relationship go. So, for her, I breached my integrity. When she had money to spend she seemed happier. With this in mind, I let go of my daydreaming and timid nature and struck out into the world with a false shake of confidence. I found a job as an insurance salesman, promising immense pay if I'd only learn to lie and coerce people. For her, I became more abrasive and pushy in my speech. For Jaycie, I learned to lie and cheat others and, eventually, lie to her... and cheat on her. I changed. I became something that felt unnatural and it was all for the woman I loved. Or so at first I thought. But never once, did she ask it of me. She didn't want me to change. The innocence we both fell in love with was where we wanted the other to stay.
         As opposites we bonded strongly but when parts of our polarities reversed we refused to embrace the change. As we grew older we grew apart. So we parted and, to this day, continue on our own ways. With our tendencies governed by misplaced logic, it took too long to realize that what we hated in the other reflected what we hid in ourselves. In the end, there existed no difference in what we were and, even now, in what we truly are.