I will never understand why people seem to nearly
seek out differences in a spouse.
Sure you don’t want to marry your twin. Still. The more things in common the better – I say.
I mean, marriage is hard.
Like – if you have not been married for ten years, you have no idea what I am talking about – hard.
Why add more to the pile? (Keep it cheap too.)
To top it all off, there could not be larger differences between people than theological/philosophical ones.
When one spouse is more religious, less religious, or non-religious – it creates a riff that is not easily overcome.
These are (often) the very things that give our lives purpose and meaning!
I know. I know. The heart wants what it wants. But the heart can be wild and stupid too.
And – come on – who’s not scared of snakes?
Of our many childhood mysteries, chief among them was not why our father decided to bring his family to the desert town of Kingman, Arizona, which we grew to cherish, but how he ever convinced my mother to join him there. They had eloped, in love, across the world, from southern India to New York City (he a Christian, she a Hindu, their marriage was condemned on both sides, and led to years of familial rifts—my mother’s mother never acknowledged my name, Paul, instead insisting I be called by my middle name, Sudhir) to Arizona, where my mother was forced to confront an intractable mortal fear of snakes.