When Did My Life Become an Episode of Dharma and Greg?

I have liked boys preppier and more conservative than me before but this particular pairing borders on comical. The Georgetown Waterfront is his favorite hangout. Meeting up for dinner, I am dressed in head to toe black with a big beaded necklace my mom once made for me, and my hair its typical rebellious mess of curls. He is in head to toe Brooks Brothers, sipping a gin and tonic, looking as if he just returned from briefing a Senator. The conversation turns to politics once again, and of course we disagree on every issue. But there's something in his delivery as he explains to me why he doesn't support the living wage, the depth of knowledge he has obtained on the subject, and his absolute passion in his convictions that I gotta respect. In fact, its downright endearing. We watch a Red Sox game which I have trouble following. I go to the rest room and when I return he is despondent. The Yankees scored a run while I was gone, their first since we had started watching the game. I am his good luck charm. This morning on the metro I express distaste for his views on same-sex marriage. He kisses me lightly on the lips and reminds me that "the political is not always the personal." I think about how I have been raised to not distinguish between the two, how my entire life they've been enmeshed as one. I wonder if people struggle over the political affiliations of the people they're attracted to elsewhere, or if this is just a nerdy Washington thing. If Mary Matelin and James Carville can do it, I guess I can too.