Can a glass half-full person truly live and thrive with a glass half-empty person?
I’d always heard there were two types of people: those who saw the glass half-empty and those who saw it half-full. Pessimists and optimists and everyone was either one or the other. But hardly anything, including types of people, in life is strictly one extreme or the other, so I wasn’t too surprised when I found out about the happy medium between these two that represents a third group of people: realists.
When I was single I didn’t think that much about my outlook on life. But there is something about being married that helps you get to know your true self. Back then I would have considered myself an optimist, but I now realize I am definitely a realist—rational, level-headed, down to earth and above all realistic.
My husband, Rob? Definitely an optimist! If you’re like me, and find yourself married to someone on a different part of the spectrum, you’ll agree that these differences often mean you end up frustrated, trying to make your spouse see the world your way. But you can also choose to learn from each other and see the humor in the differences.
I’m no psychologist and hopefully you’re not looking to The Pulse to read a scholarly review of the types of people in this world, but what I can tell you is that I choose to see the humor in being a realist living with an optimist. Mine and Rob’s different perceptions of situations was made apparent on our honeymoon. Of course!
We spent a week in Boulder, Colorado and one of the things Rob wanted to do was climb one of the three Flatirons for which Boulder is so famous. Our plan was to begin later in the afternoon and time our arrival at the top for sunset so that we could sit and enjoy a bottle of wine and soak in a romantic sunset with a view.
Well, the day didn’t go as planned and we didn’t find ourselves at the bottom of the Flatiron until around 5 p.m.
Here’s my “realist” thought process:
“Okay, so it’s 4 p.m. now. Sunset is at 7:40 p.m. The Flatiron is approximately 1,400 feet which means a solid 7 pitches (pitch equals climbing one length of rope) for each of us. It’s going to be easy climbing, but Rob has to place protective climbing gear and build anchors to keep us safe so that’ll take some time. Best case it’ll probably take us about 45 minutes per pitch...which means we’re looking at over five hours of climbing. Okay, definitely too late in the day to start this! We’d never make it in time for sunset. We’ll need to come back another day.”
If you’re a realist like me, you’re nodding your head in agreement. I’m not being negative, I’m just being rational and evaluating the outcome realistically. So I tell Rob, “Hey honey, I don’t think we have enough time to get to the top before dark. I think we should come back another day when we can get an earlier start.”
“Oh no, we have plenty of time!” quips the optimist. “We’ll fly up these things, it’ll go quickly. I’ve done this before and they’re super easy.”
Since Rob has years of climbing experience, including multi-pitch as this type of climbing is referred to, whereas I had been climbing less than two years and had virtually no multi-pitch experience, I trusted him. I assumed he was also evaluating the situation realistically and if he thought we could make it, I believed him. But Rob is not a realist, he’s an optimist.
So naturally he was positive that it wouldn’t take that long, and we’d make it to the top in time to enjoy the romantic sunset. In the optimist’s mind, everything would be perfect. I was excited for the adventure too, even though it went against my better judgment (read: realistic viewpoint) to go through with the plan so late in the evening. But I trusted his experience over mine, so I went with it.
You know what’s coming. About halfway up this massive, 1,400 foot Flatiron, not only had the sun already set, any fading rays were also completely gone. When Rob had climbed the Flatiron previously he was on his own, wasn’t building anchors and placing gear to keep a wife safe, and so of course it had gone quicker.
We had no headlamps because we hadn’t expected to be climbing after dark and I distinctly remember Rob telling me to “run up the wall honey, try to go as fast as you can” while I’m trying to adjust my eyes in the light of the moon to see if there is even anything to hold onto.
By the time we reached the top, the moon was out in full force and while the lights of the city below were lovely I suppose, the whole experience had been so stressful that we were in no state to enjoy it—or our wine. I do recall us taking a few swigs before tackling the down climb but that was probably more of an attempt to sooth my nerves and anxiety.
At that point, you realize you can either laugh or cry. I think I did a little bit of both—laugh at the absurdity of the adventures Rob’s optimism got us into and cry in relief that he also managed to get us safely back down.
If Rob was a realist, he might have rationally viewed the reality of the situation as I had and agreed with me on the timing. But he chose to see the best possible outcome, so we had adventured on, expecting the best. Over the next year I started to recognize our differences and learn when Rob’s optimism was not realistic and when we both needed me to bring him back to reality. But I also realized the value in his viewpoint and when to let myself get excited and hopeful.
After we’d been married for about a year, we both left our corporate jobs and started our own small business together. I came from a finance background and could figure out the taxes, licenses, invoicing, billing, expenses and basically perform all office functions. Rob came from an engineering and computer background and could do the actual engineering service work our business provides, as well as the marketing, website and SEO types of things, so it worked well.
Even during the initial start-up, I have to admit that things went better than I was expecting. I’ve read that entrepreneurs typically have either an optimistic mindset and remain exceedingly positive about outcomes (ahem, Rob), or they are realists who downplay the good and see the bad as inevitable. Bingo!
Here’s what this looks like. We landed our first major job within the first month of business and at the end of it Rob gave me the total hours he worked, hours on the road, and how many nights he spent in a hotel. I prepared the invoice which amounted to around $4,000.
“Oh my gosh! We just made $4,000! Can you believe it?! Our business is awesome! I knew we’d be successful! This should support us for the whole month and then some!” Rob’s optimistic outlook and enthusiasm went wild.
“Well, first we have to subtract your expenses—the nights in hotels, the gas, the meals, the tools you had to buy. Then we have to pay our business expenses like your cell phone and our insurance. Then there are taxes, which for a small business will probably be around 40 percent. But yeah honey, it’s a great size invoice and should help towards our monthly budget.”
Me, I’m just being realistic. Let’s not go thinking we’re putting a $4,000 check into our bank account. It’s probably going be more like $2,000 if we’re lucky.
“So what you’re saying is that I made like $5,” Rob said, clearly deflated by my realism.
And then...we chose to laugh.
We’ve learned there is value in both optimistic and realistic outlooks and that though different, they are complimentary. If we were both as optimistic as Rob, we might have bankrupted the company already. And if we were both as realistic as me we might have given up when work got slim. But the balance our two perspectives offer has worked well in business, as well as in life, and together we thrive.
We’ve learned to recognize and embrace our differences rather than be frustrated by them—sometimes anyway. Truth be told, I wouldn’t change a thing about Rob—optimists are great! He sees the rewards in the challenges, he remains hopeful even when things get bleak, he takes more time to relax and enjoy life.
We’ve found a great deal of humor in the Heart and Brain cartoon illustrations of the “Awkward Yeti” by Nick Seluk (Google them, they’re really good). While the illustrations are probably more about a person’s inner conflict between their heart and brain, the cartoons so completely represent the two people in our marriage.
Rob is the heart—optimistic and happy, carefree, positive and chasing butterflies. I am the brain—realistic and sensible, grounded, down-to-earth and responsible.
To quote one of our favorite Awkward Yeti illustrations:
The Brain says: “We didn’t get a SINGLE THING done today.”
To which the Heart responds: “Gasp! You say that like it’s a BAD thing!”
And we chuckle over another one as it relates to our business.
“Now that we work from home, self-discipline is absolutely ESSENTIAL.” —Brain “Speak for yourself, dork.” —Heart (while playing a video game)
Can anyone else relate?