He thought marrying your college sweetheart was for suckers. But then he did it.
We both love kids, and want to have a couple of our own eventually. We both have jobs we love, but resent the way they take over our lives. We both long to live in the mountains. We both find sexual jealousy bizarre and unnecessary, and believe honesty is the only thing that's non-negotiable.
Above all, we're both rationalists at the core. If you can convince me, through reasoned argument and evidence, that your way is better than mine, then you get to have your way, and the same goes for Emily.
This is not to say that we don't have our share of blind passions and idiosyncrasies, such as my compulsive need to find anything I misplace and Emily's pathological response to highway traffic. But, in the end, it's a point of pride for both of us that we set these knee-jerk impulses aside and do whatever makes the most sense—even in areas of life that traditionally aren't subject to reason.
In a world where more than half of all marriages end badly, you hear an awful lot about passion cooling over time and familiarity breeding contempt. But among the many things Emily and I share is a belief that we can overcome those obstacles.
I may be a little immature, like most guys my age, and Emily may be a little type-A, like most of the women we immature guys seem to gravitate to. Neither of us, however, is lazy, or incapable of reflection.
A couple that's not afraid to work at it and talk to each other can become happier, more in love, more aware, more harmonious over time. I know, because we've managed it so far. Even if we are the kind of people who married their college sweethearts.