Love is a Minefield

It goes without saying that while opposites allegedly attract, most relationships of lasting value are based upon the commonalities. My relationship with Jay is no different--but there have been a couple of defining moments that clearly and succinctly illustrate our differences:

1) Walking to work one morning, we passed by a local social entrepreneurial coffee shop with a sign advertising their fair-trade brew. “What’s fair-trade coffee?” Jay asked me.

“Are you asking because you don’t know what it is, or because you’ve never heard of it before?”

"I don't think I've heard of it before. What is it?”

I could only respond to his question with stunned silence. It was hard for me to believe that in 2009, someone wouldn’t know what fair-trade coffee is, let alone have never heard of it. (We do live in Toronto, after all. Even the Starbucks on every corner is pushing their fair-trade blends.) But knowing Jay, I pushed back my disbelief and quickly explained fair-trade farming.

“Oh,” Jay said, thinking for a moment. “I thought it was an exchange service. You know, like maybe a homeless guy could bring in bottles for coffee. For instance, 10 bottles would be a fair trade for one coffee.”

2) The first time Jay and I went to the movies together, I insisted that we take the streetcar. Okay, fine. “But how much does it cost?” he asked me. He’s lived in the GTA for most of his life.

So when I suggested to Jay that we head to Croatia this spring, I was hardly surprised when he scrunched up his face and asked, “Will I be mugged?”