The other brother

I met this guy. He looked like a surfer, tanned but in a sportive, natural way. He went to all the right schools, Ivy League college, spent some time in Europe before that. Holds the door for you and smells like A&F perfume but not overwhelmingly so. Knows how to dress casually and formally. But his hair will still always have the surfer touch to it. He drives a cool sports car, rides a bicycle, and is into yoga. He's always relaxed, happy and open and sweet to everyone. Loves to go out have fun and date a few women at the same time. Because life is too short to not try another beer, wine, extreme sport, drug, or beautiful woman. I thought he was a great guy to hang out and have a lot of fun with. Until I met his brother.

He is older. Darker. Less educated, well, class room educated. He reads the news. He fixes things. From cars to pipes  and furniture. He navigates rapids, and knows how to survive in the wilderness, but he'd never boast about any of these skills. He doesn't use perfume. He smells like a day outside in fresh air that doesn't know smog. Or carbon dioxide for that matter. He drives a 30 year old pickup that he keeps fixing but can't part from. He's never seen a gym from the inside and doesn't need yoga because he spends so much time by himself outside or working with his hands that he doesn't know how it feels to be stressed. He will fall in love once. And spend the rest of his life with that person. Because he doesn't need something new and exciting every other week.