Accepting the different

When my first marriage ended, I took a pause for reflection. That separation was a hard blow for me, it was a union that lasted fifteen years and that left two children, but for different reasons it could not continue...

I spent about a year alone before I dared to look for another partner again. During that time I reflected a lot, trying to understand what had not worked. I knew that I had to improve a lot of things before I dared to be with another person.

The feeling of loneliness sometimes attacked me with force, I would arrive at my apartment and I felt the need to go back to the street. It was then that I got into the habit of writing down my thoughts in a small notebook.

Every night, after eating a light dinner, I would set up my coffee pot with enough for about three cups of coffee. I would sit at the table and begin to write down my thoughts, in no order, almost unintentionally.

I would write down anything that came to my mind. I would think for a while, put a few words on paper, take a small sip of coffee and keep that routine. Before I knew it, midnight would come and I would go to bed to start the next day's work. That was how my days went by, in a peace that I found comforting... Coffee was a great ally...

In those days I had started a new course in the postgraduate course I was doing, most of the group of participants were strangers to me.

When forming the work teams I joined the first one that wanted to accept me. There were three women and me, two were professors, just like me, and the other was a lawyer. I got along very well with all of them, we treated each other with trust and affection.

After a while, one of the teachers and I began to see each other differently, we were very attracted to each other, we would talk about anything after class. Sometimes I would take her home in my car.

One afternoon I invited her to a bakery where they sold delicious muffins and prepared one of the best coffees in town. She didn't object...

Upon entering the establishment I asked her how she wanted her coffee and she replied that no way, that coffee was not her favorite drink. I ordered my coffee and she ordered a lemonade.

Not even a minute had passed when she asked me to go outside to the terrace. At that time of the afternoon it was almost empty because it was still quite hot. I remarked that it would probably be very hot there and she said that was the least of it. Intrigued I took my cup, the glass with the lemonade and let her choose the spot on the terrace.

Once outside she confessed to me that she couldn't stand the smell of coffee, that she had never liked it. We talked for a while longer and then I took her home.

From that moment on I was careful to invite her to open places where she would not be bothered by the smell of coffee. I, for my part, had no problem sharing a lemonade with her. She could drink coffee at my place.

Step by step we became more than friends and began to share weekends together. Once at her house and once at mine.

The situation was not very easy because of the coffee issue, which for me was indispensable, but I decided that the difference between the two of us was not a sufficient reason to prevent us from being with another person.

When I went to her I had to carry my coffee pot, and if I wanted to drink coffee I prepared it on a small balcony where the aroma was carried away by the air, I washed my cups very carefully and poured the used coffee in plastic bags, the idea was not to disturb. It was uncomfortable but tolerable.

We lived together like that for a few months, long enough to realize that more things separated us than united us. It wasn't just the coffee thing, but other things much more important...

I went back to the solitude of my apartment, to my three cups of coffee after dinner, and to leave my thoughts written in my notebook...

Some time later I started working in courses for teachers about to graduate and started dating one of my students, a little younger than me. She loved coffee, but also cigarettes. I never smoked but I could stand a little smoke.

However, my new partner was very respectful of that discrepancy of mine, she smoked when we were not in enclosed places.

Soon after we started living together, we started a family. Thirty-five years have passed, and now we both share the autumn of life. She still smokes, and now she is more careful because she knows that age has made me sensitive to cigarette smoke.

Every afternoon we sit on our porch sharing a cup of coffee, and she immediately gets the urge to smoke. She gets up, stands under a tree, away from where I am, and starts smoking her cigarette, and we continue talking a little louder, until we finish our conversation...

Two people with different tastes can live perfectly well together, it's a matter of learning to respect each other's needs and wanting to find a way to live together without bothering each other.

Thank you for your time.