Mr. Egg & I were talking today about our opposite personalities. We're yin and yang. Night and day. Black and white.
According to this little yin yang graphic, Mr. Egg is the yang and I am the yin.
According to the Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator, Mr. Egg is an ESTP, and I'm an INFJ. (You can click the highlighted links for more info, if you're interested).
We couldn't be more opposite if we tried.
When Mr. Egg and I met, I was a shy, quiet honor student who worked at our small town library and was majoring in English in college. I never went anywhere but church and school.
Mr. Egg was a talkative, impulsive guy who worked in sales and didn't have time or patience for anything that required him to sit still for over 15 minutes. He loved the rush of being a reserve police officer and never met a risk he didn't like.
I had a passbook savings bank account stuffed with every dime I'd ever earned. My best friend was the same one I'd had since were were both 11.
Mr. Egg spent every dime he could get his hands on, and all his credit cards were completely maxed out. He had more friends than he could count.
It was love at first sight. Naturally. :-)
We both had a lot of adjusting to do during our early years together. (Drastic, massive, colossal understatement!!)
Take Mr. Egg's social bent. Any time we went anywhere (out to eat, to a movie, etc), Mr. Egg felt we needed to invite friends along. The more the merrier. I used to wonder why we couldn't simply go out for a burger...just the two of us. Mr. Egg wondered why I didn't understand how much more fun it would be with a crowd!
If we went to any kind of social event, we were always the last to leave. Always. The event might end at 8pm, but inevitably, at 10 or 11pm, there would still be two cars left in the empty parking lot...ours and whoever Mr. Egg was talking to.
If we went to a friend's house, I quickly learned that when Mr. Egg said, "Well, we'd better be going," that actually meant he was just getting started. It usually took 4 or 5 more pronouncements of "We'd better be going" (as well as 2 or 3 more hours) before we actually got up and went.
The man loved to talk.
I grew accustomed to his coming home hours late...he was always "talking" to someone. Once, he went out on a hunting trip with some friends and told me he'd be home by dark. By 11pm, I honestly didn't even think I should be worried. Being hours and hours late was just par for the course for Mr. Egg.
I went to bed, confident he was safely chatting away somewhere, only to be awakened at 2am by a frantic phone call from one of the other wives. "I know you must be out of your mind with worry!" she said. "The guys' truck broke down and they had to hike miles and miles to the nearest highway!"
I was too embarrassed to tell her I'd gone to sleep because I figured Mr. Egg was someplace talking. :-)
It wasn't only Mr. Egg's social nature that took some adjusting to...he was quite possibly the most impulsive person I'd ever known.
Upon the birth of our first child, I went home to visit my mom for a week to let her get acquainted with her new 6 week old granddaughter.
After a few days, I got a phone call from Mr. Egg. In those days of higher long distance costs and no cell phones, we usually limited ourselves to one mid-week call.
After the usual "How's everything going? How's the baby?", Mr. Egg casually told me that during the few days I'd been gone, he had quit his job, gotten a new job on the other side of the state, rented a house for us, moved half our possessions across Texas, and currently had a group of friends and acquaintances at our house packing up the rest of our stuff.
Even now, just typing that, my heart has gone into overdrive. :-)
I remember sitting there, holding the phone, and realizing that I couldn't breathe. I couldn't talk. I couldn't even think.
He had moved? Without telling me?
Yep, he had.
To Mr. Egg, it was no big deal to just up and move, and then casually mention it to me in our next phone call. He honestly didn't understand why I was so freaked out.
I'm a very private, home-oriented person. I need time to adjust to things.
The realization that I'd been suddenly moved to a new home, and that people I barely knew were pawing through all my cabinets and drawers and throwing all my belongings into boxes was almost more than I could take.
But Mr. Egg thought he was doing me a favor, getting all the details taken care of while I was at my mom's.
I guess you could look at it that way... if you consider it a favor to give someone heart failure.
But fortunately, after nearly 26 years together, we've grown to understand and respect (and even appreciate!) one another's differences. Usually, anyway. :-)
For my part, I know that if I hadn't met Mr. Egg, I'd probably still be working at that same small town library, still be driving the huge green LTD my grandfather gave me when I graduated high school, and still be listening to the BeeGees on 8 track tape.
Mr. Egg has taught me the thrill of taking occasional risks. He's taught me to relax more about money and life in general. He's taught me to loosen up and enjoy the moment. He's introduced me to computers and satellite TV and cell phones. He's taught me that no matter how bleak things may look, there's always a funny side to everything.
He's taught me that it's better to try and fail, than never to try at all.
I like to think I've had a positive impact on him, as well. He's come to enjoy life at a slower pace. He now appreciates quiet evenings at home with a good book. He's finally figured out that it's nice to call if he's going to be late. When we're out and he says, "It's time to leave," I can count on him to pick up his coat and walk to the door. And while he still enjoys social events more than I do, he's no longer driven to fill every moment with activity and people.
And, most importantly, he's learned that he must never, never, never, ever move without telling me.
We've come a long way, baby. :-)
