"When I was doing research for my PhD on dating couples, one of the interesting ironies I ran across were antithetical sayings. For instance, who hasn't heard the old saw 'birds of a feather flock together?' Everyone, right? Then how do you explain this: 'Opposites attract'?" He looked around and saw the typical reactions. Lots of smiles, some shrugs, a few nods.
"Can they both be true? Anyone? Casey? Care to venture a guess?"
Casey Easton was a 21-year old junior majoring in sociology. Even though jobs were scarce to impossible-to-find in her chosen field, she loved the study of human behavior both individually and in groups as well as learning in general. She particularly enjoyed Dr. Seth Carlson's classes and this was the third course she'd taken from him in as many years.
Her freshman year, she had no idea who was who. She just knew she had to take Sociology 101, the introductory course, and he happened to be teaching a class that best fit the rest of her schedule. She didn't know for a couple of weeks how interesting and thoroughly prepared he was let alone that he was one of a very few tenured professors who still taught undergraduate courses. What she did know was he was freakin' gorgeous and that never hurt.
Her sophomore year she found a way to take another class with him even though it put a serious kink in her plans. She needed to work to pay her half of the rent as well as tuition, books and fees. Taking that class forced her to cut her hours back but she didn't care because it was worth it just to be around 'Dr. Dreamy.'
Seth Carlson noticed Casey on the first day of the first class three years ago, but who wouldn't? In all the years he'd been either going to school or teaching, he'd only seen a handful of young women as attractive as her. He'd just started dating another bimbo in an endless string of them and as empty-headed as they were, that was all he wanted in a relationship. Whatever interest he might have had in Casey was sublimated into finding creative ways to bring her into as many classroom discussions as possible. This way, he could 'get to know her' without risking any kind of inappropriate behavior or hint of favoritism, let alone the thought of something he deeply dreaded—a commited relationship. The only thing worse was the 'm' word and Seth Carlson was not the marrying kind. He knew professors dated their students all the time, but it was still risky and fraught with all kinds of peril and he wasn't going to risk his reputation on any student, not even one as beautiful as Casey.
"It seems to me we are somehow evolutionarily predisposed to accept ideas, which are often expressed as catchy little phrases, that at least make sense to us on some level. So we can readily agree that people who share many things in common logically fit together while also leaving room to acknowledge that people with totally opposing points of view or life interests can compliment one another. Just look at James Carville and Mary Matalin. Talk about opposites attracting, right?"
There were a few chuckles from those familiar with the unlikely pairing of a liberal Democrat and a very conservative Republican. Considering how long ago, Bill Clinton was president, there were even more "Huhs?" and "Who's that" comments from those too young or ill-informed to know who they were. In spite of their being polar opposites, politically speaking, their marriage seemed to work.
"Insightful as always, Ms. Easton. But are both of them 'true'?" he asked taking it to the next level.
She thought for a moment then said, "I try not to use words like truth, proof, or believe." Every head had now turned to look at her and not just the guys who were constantly checking her out or hitting on her. "For instance, when someone asks me whether or not I believe in God, I tell them the better question is 'what evidence is there to support God's existence?' If someone wants me to prove an argument I tell them I can't because proof is for courtrooms and mathematics classes, so there again, I can only provide evidence for or against any given thing. Therefore I can't tell you whether or not either statement is 'true.' I can only provide examples of both and offer an opinion as my conclusion."
"Damn! That chick is smoking hot and smart as hell!" one of the male students said far too loudly. A few laughed and Casey just rolled her eyes.
"Uh, would you care to come up and finish teaching the class, Ms. Easton?" he said smiling. "I feel like I've just been taken to school by one of my students." He saw her smiling back at him then shifted gears. "Okay, anyone else have any thoughts?"
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Casey dropped her book bag on the couch and looked at the clock. It was after 7pm and Caden still wasn't home—again. She knew the shop was struggling, but this was getting ridiculous. He was leaving the house at 7am and getting home after eight or nine nearly every day. As much as that bothered her on one level, she knew there was a reason for it. A new motorcycle shop had opened up just three blocks away and they were seriously undercutting his prices on parts and labor. It was part of a chain of stores that could afford to do that at any one given location until it ran its competition out of business. It would then typically swoop in, buy out the shop, and open a new franchise using the existing building which was ready to repair motorcycles after making a few cosmetic changes. It was a fantastic business model, unless of course, you owned the mom & pop shop getting run out of town.
She'd been at work or school all day herself and she still needed to make dinner and do homework. She rarely complained as she'd chosen this life for herself, but it was times like this that made her question her decisions.
Casey had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and she'd always loved going to school. Growing up, she'd been relatively sheltered by her two loving parents so when she finally got out from under their control her freshman year of college, she went a little wild. Nothing crazy. She didn't go off the deep end by any means. She just wanted to try some new things. In the space of three months she'd lost her virginity (several times), got drunk for the first time (and hated it), smoked weed several times (and kind of like it), and met Caden Fields who, among other things, loved motorcycles. He not only loved riding them—fast—he loved working on them and he was good at it.
Caden had that James Dean look that said 'dangerous' and 'I don't care' written all over him and from the first time he'd asked Casey to hop on, she was hooked. A month later, she moved into his tiny studio apartment in the University district while going to school full-time.
When her parents found out what she'd done, her father gave her an ultimatum. Move out and call it off or support herself. Spreading her wings of rebellion a little wider, she chose Caden and the checks stopped being deposited in her account.
That year, Caden was offered a job at bike repair shop and was making pretty decent money and managed to put a fair share of it away even as she started working as many hours a week as she could get in a coffee shop near their apartment.
The following year, one of his repeat customers asked him why he didn't own the shop. "You're good, Caden. You're really good. In fact, you're better than any of the other mechanics in here. Why not be your own boss?"
Caden thanked him then explained the reality of the situation in terms of money. Caden was shocked when the man agreed to help him work up a business plan and possibly even bankroll him if it looked plausible. Three months later he accepted the man's offer and bought the place in spite of Casey's deep reservations. After voicing them two or three times, she could tell this was his dream so she gave up resisting and became his biggest supporter.
He'd worked a lot of long hours that first year and he'd managed to keep the place afloat and occasionally even made a little money. But since the new shop opened up, he'd been hemorrhaging cash hand over fist. It seemed like no matter how much time and effort he put into the job, nothing ever got any better. As bad as that was, the worst thing about it for her was the way it affected both his behavior and his mood.
It was just after nine when he came home and Casey was nearly finished with a ten-page paper that was due the next day.
"Hey! How'd it go today?" she asked as she got up to kiss him hello.
"Shitty," was all he said not kissing her back.
"Wanna talk about it?" she said following him.
"Not really," he told her as he threw his greasy jacket on the couch. He knew that drove her crazy but she chose not to pick a fight.
"Can I get you something to eat?" she asked pleasantly.
"Nah, just bring me a beer, babe."
Casey bristled at essentially being ordered to bring him a beer. She didn't mind cooking for both of them, but this is where she usually drew the line. She grabbed one from the fridge, opened the bottle, and handed it to him. "Don't ever tell me to bring you a beer again," she said shoving it into his hands. "I'm sorry you had a bad day, but it isn't exactly Disneyland in my world lately, either."
She thought about asking him when the last time they'd made love was, but right now the last thing she wanted were his dirty, greasy hands pawing all over her. She went back to her paper and said, "If you change you mind, just let me know."