02.14.16 -- A pal recently introduced my wife and me to another couple by saying, “This is Gary and Nora, who never would have gotten together if they’d relied on computer dating.”
    And it’s true. We don’t have much in common. Nora was raised Catholic in Panama. I grew up Jewish in the Philadelphia suburbs. She loves a big crowd. I’m more comfortable one-on-one. She stands out at a party. I often hang out on the periphery. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and face, and flaring nostrils. I’m terminally laid back, and half the time people can’t tell whether

Nora and me

I’m delighted or depressed. She hates to be alone. I’m perfectly happy on my own. She loves to dance. I tend to dance only when I have to. She enjoys gardening. I’d rather brew up a pot of beer. She...
    Well, you get the point. Still, we fell in love despite our differences – and because of them. I adored her vivacity, her unbridled passion and her big heart. She cherished my stability, common sense and gentle nature. She swears she knew I was the man for her the moment she laid eyes on me. It took a little longer for me, but seven years and one child later, we finally tied the knot.
    More than two decades have passed since then, and we’re still very much in love. I’ve learned to enjoy the hot spices she uses in her cooking. She’s learned to enjoy my penchant for jumping in the car on a weekend day to just “get lost.” In short, our differences have broadened our horizons, as we’re both sometimes forced to get out of our comfort zones to please the other.
    Maybe it would be easier to be married to someone just like me. But I doubt it would be as interesting, exciting, challenging and fulfilling as my life with Nora.
    So after seven years of courting and twenty-one of marriage I still say to her:
    “Will you be my Valentine?”