We dream the same dream?

For some terrible reason, I was afflicted with the brain-bug on my Internal Jukebox of Belinda Carlisle's We Want The Same Thing. And it got me thinking. Do we? Do we really?
To wit: on one hand, I envisage a benign dictatorship, led by me, in which the ne'er do wells are cajoled and humanely treated into becoming responsible members of society; benefits and the welfare state are available to all those who need it and are a stepping stone back into contributing to society. Punishment for those who refuse to abide by these rules will be tempered by effective rehabilitation, and only persistent miscreants will be treated harshly. Everyone will realise that they have to put something into society to get something out of it. The Girlfriend, on the other hand, would like a malevolent dictatorship, led by her and enforced by crack military police units in black leather, in which all low-life fuckers were mercilessly executed.
Of course, this is not going to happen, but there are more realistic differences. I like to snowboard down pistes at great speed, and through dangerous tree-lined off-piste routes, in search of thrills, whereas she - inexplicably - likes to get to the bottom in one piece. I think a good evening in front of the television involves the unpredictable and magnificent drama of 22 men and a synthetic-leather pig's bladder substitute; she like car-crash TV in which fat and ugly Americans have plastic surgery to make them look like less-fat, ugly and facially stretched perma-smiling retards. I like computer games in which I can pretend to do someone else's job; she likes helping fluffy animals with their chores and to make a nice town. And so on...
The point of which is (apart from pointing out how wrong Ms Carlisle is), surely you don't want your partner to be a clone of you. Obviously, you want the broad interests to be the same: The Girlfriend and I both want rid of social parasites and like snowboarding, watching TV and playing computer games, but if you were too similar, what would you talk about? "Ooh, isn't xxx good?" "Yes." "Ooh, I don't like that, do you?" "No."
Actually, I'm not sure what my point is. Nor do I care. Hell, I was only trying to justify having a bad pop song in my head. And to point out that there is no excuse for wearing matching fleeces or the like...