Everybody has quirks. The trick to living with someone else without turning into a monster is either finding someone with the same quirks or who doesn't mind yours all that much (and vice versa, naturally).

Well, Nick's had it in his head for years now that he is going to be able to reform me of a few of mine. I think he's getting a little frustrated that I'm not the malleable ball of clay he thought I was. I can be just as stubborn as anybody, I just store the cement wall behind behind an acquiescing smile. (It's very effective in the business world.)

I have been spending a lot of time with my cousin Michelle over the past year. At first I was awed by how quickly we reconnected and how deeply we bonded. Now that I've had time to think about it, the connection is obvious. We were raised with the same role models, our heartstrings are played to the same tune, and our logic speeds along the same zip line. Even with ten years of little communication, we recognized a part of ourselves in each other.

Nick has grown close to Michelle over the last year when he really didn't know her very well before. He's been trying to get her to contradict me on something just to feel like he's got someone on his side (the side that believes my quirks to be stupid). Her uncoached answers to his questions always tickle me because they are almost verbatim what I have already answered.

• Months ago, on a date weekend out of town, he wanted to go see a stand-up comedian. This doesn't particularly interest me because I have zero desire (probably even negative desire) to be heckled. Michelle was going to hang out at the condo while we were away to Sophie-sit. He was worn out trying to convince me to go, so he tried to reenforce his reserves by asking Michelle her opinion. She replied with the same immediate distaste, asking, "Why the hell would you pay someone to pick on you!?"


• He likes the sensation of falling. He loves roller coasters and wants to go skydiving one day. I would prefer not to fall, ever. I don't need to mimic the feeling of plunging to my death to know that it wouldn't be a pleasant way to go. We were all in the car together when Nick asked Michelle if she would go to Great America with him. She choked on her Diet Coke and told him, "I'm patient. I'll wait until my number is up to feel like I'm going to die."


• As the season began to change, Nick went on an on about doing a corn maze this year. He goes on and on about this every year. If there's anything worse than falling, it's being lost and too small to see your way out. My anxiety begins to rise just thinking of that, so no thanks. Michelle and I have gotten unintentially lost in actual corn fields before, and we didn't find it entertaining. He asked Michelle if she'd go with him through a corn maze. She looked at him for a long while before asking, "What is WRONG with you!?"


• Now, there are several types of quirks other than rational fears, and this last one is more habit-based. Nick does most of the driving, and he tends to get distracted looking every which way but forward at traffic lights. For the longest time I tried to be helpful and let him know when the light had changed. After enough of his diva tantrums, I've learned to curb the urge. Let him irritate the cars behind him; I'm sure road rage is a myth anyway.
  
  Yesterday, the three of us were in the car together, stopped at a light. Nick was looking out to the left when the light changed. Michelle, completely innocent and unaware, piped up, "It's green." He whipped around to glare at her and she looked at me like, "What the hell!? He wasn't looking!" I tried to hide my smile. In talking later, she found it absurd that he wouldn't prefer a friend prodding him along instead of a honking car.
  
  Dude, I know.

I think Nick needs to seek an ally elsewhere.