Social worker Andrea Maloney Schara counsels Washington couples, and says that marital political strife is a common complaint in that company town. "I deal with this all the time," she said. "When people who you love say things that upset you or that you don't agree with, you think, 'I don't like you!' And sometimes more than that. 'Not only do I not like you, I'm done! I hate you!'" said Schara. "It's all about fear -- fear that they're going to take you over, control you to be like them, that you're going to end up merging with them. That's when we fight."

Not that all politically divergent couples argue. "I don't fight over anything with anybody," said Hiram Hardy, a 69-year-old retired truck driver in Davenport, Iowa. He was speaking by phone the day after the Iowa caucuses, where he had been a caucus leader. "My wife was over with Gephardt and I was with Kerry. I've always been for Kerry, so we discussed that. But no, we don't fight about it."

Hiram quickly clarified that his wife's presence in the Gephardt camp doesn't mean that she'll be voting Democratic come November. Julianne, 57 and a real estate agent, is a staunch Republican, and has been throughout their 37-year marriage. "I guess they [the Republicans] want the weaker people to win the nomination so that they'll go up against the Republicans," said Hiram, with what sounded like a shrug.

"I guess I have always been for working-class people," said Hiram. "[Julianne] has always been a Republican because of this abortion issue. Anyone who indicates that a woman should have rights to an abortion -- she really wipes them out, doesn't want anything to do with them. But then that's the Republicans -- they seem to think that they are more moral than everybody else."

These casual "my-wife-is-Attila-the-Hun" comments may be a bit unsettling for those whose mates drop the same butterfly ballots in the voting machines, but the politically mismatched seem unfazed by them. In Hiram's case, "everybody else" apparently includes him. "I'll tell you the truth," he said, "I don't think it's right to take the life of a child, but there are a lot of circumstances that I have never been in that I don't fully understand. I don't think it's right to bring a child into this world and abandon it and starve it, and then there's rape and so forth. And I think, OK, maybe that would fall into the category where abortion [is alright]. But no, under no circumstances would my wife allow you to do that. But we don't have fights over it, just total disagreement."

Thin GOP pundit Ann Coulter isn't confident that heart-stopping romance can flourish among political opposites. Political difference in love is "not a turn-on," she said in an e-mail. "It's an obstacle to be overcome and then eliminated through the process of conversion." On whether she herself had ever been romantically involved with a Democrat, Coulter said, "Dated someone who's a Democrat? Are we talking about a man?" later clarifying that this response was a joke about how "Democrats aren't men." How about a Libertarian or Green Party member? "I really can't stand the smell of pot." Would political difference keep her from falling for someone? "If the views are strongly held, it probably would. But I don't like riding in hybrid cars anyway."

Kennedy the Republican and Glidewell the Democrat keep Republican speechwriter Mary Matalin and Democratic baldy James Carville in good company as examples that fly in the face of gender assumptions backed up both by statistics and stereotyping. Those assumptions are that women -- compassionate softies with keen nurturing instincts -- skew left while alpha males -- providers who have good heads for math and a well-preserved G.I. Joe collection -- will be more likely to be hawkish, testosterone-fueled Republicans. Coulter has an explanation for the supposed prevalence of lefty lasses and Republican lads: "Notwithstanding their progressive pretensions," she says, "all women want a man."

For some, an ideological fault line reveals itself deep into a marriage. This is the case with Alice and Frank Remer, who live in Corona Del Mar, Calif., and have been married for 55 years. "We have had to call a truce over this [Iraq] war," said Alice, a retired school librarian. "Because there's very little we fight about. But when Bush comes on and Frank is saying 'Oh, he's pretty good,' I get very angry."

The Remers met at Erasmus Hall High School in Brooklyn in 1944. They supported McGovern in 1972, and Frank voted for Ralph Nader in the 2000 election. "He's always been a good Democrat," said Alice, 74. "It's really this one issue." Alice said that she blames the hawkish work of former leftist poster child Christopher Hitchens for its influence over her husband. "Not that Frank can't think for himself, but having people of that caliber writing this way, it gives him some ammunition," said Alice with a small sigh.

Frank, a 74-year-old semi-retired attorney and Army veteran who serves as president of Corona Del Mar's Baroque Music Festival, later agreed that he has had a change of heart. "About the war and to some extent President Bush, I don't identify myself with the popular liberal Democratic approach. Although I feel as though that approach left me, rather than me leaving it," he clarified. And while Frank said that when he picks up Vanity Fair and reads the work of Hitchens, "he's saying exactly what I'm thinking," he denies his wife's suggestion that he is in the Hitchens tractor-beam. "Oh, no, no ... he's not leading me," said Frank.

As for the impact his shifting views have had on his marriage, Frank said, "I'm sure this irritates her, and I'm not happy about that. I try to downplay my reaction when we watch the news together, but sometimes some of this pops out -- to her great frustration." Frank pointed out, a little ruefully, that "all of her friends and acquaintances are on her side, so she has that support system."

"I think at the end of the day, if we ever get into it -- I think she respects my viewpoint," said Frank. "She thinks I'm crazy, but she respects my views."

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