He smiles small. His favorite pictures of himself have his mouth closed, and he looks like he's got a secret that he's not telling the camera. He doesn't like photos where he smiles with his teeth showing.
When we smile--and I mean really, genuinely, deep-down smile--I sparkle; he glows.
I'm still waiting for a transcendently beautiful picture of the two of us laughing together, but whenever someone takes one, one or the other of us has our eyes squinched up funny, or a huge double chin.
At first glance, this is the best description of the two of us. I'm more outgoing, more verbose, more likely to be the one heard across the room. He's less likely to talk for the sake of making noise, more likely to think before he speaks, less brash, more likely to back up what I'm saying and distill my ramblings.
And maybe the fact that those first impressions are as one-dimensional as a photographed smile is why we complement each other so well. It's a clear, accurate picture, but it's far from being the full spectrum of smiles that either of us has.
Maybe the squinchy-eyed, double-chinned, weird-angled laughing photo is transcendently beautiful after all.
For the visually impaired: There is a photo of Colin and I standing in front of a Christmas tree. We're both looking straight at the camera. I'm smiling a wide, full smile. He's smiling more gently, with his lips together. It's one of our favorite photos of the two of us together.
This has been an entry for therealljidol. Other entries for this topic can be found here.