My weekend was perfect, if something can truly be perfect. Maybe I should say it was perfect for us.
When you use the word perfect and you consider the definition of the word perfect, you realize that in all likelihood you should not ever be using that word. Perfect does not exist. And my own obsession with perfection in the past was something that I definitely had to work through. I believed we were the perfect couple with the perfect house with perfect children living the perfect life. I used to tell him it was Disneyland. And, here’s the thing. We were the perfect couple in a perfect house with perfect children living the perfect life for us, with all of those wonderful imperfections as part of the deal. But, I didn’t want to admit the imperfections part. I failed to see those imperfections as the unique parts of us that made us so special. It was all the things about us that weren’t perfect that made us perfect. Instead of embracing the imperfections, I wanted to overlook them. Maybe we both did.
When we fell in love with each other, the same imperfections we were so willing to look over did not go away. Maybe we thought that they might, or hoped that they would, but we are who we are. For the most part, we have always blown off each others faults and errs. But, for even the best of we will have days where those things just get to us. We forget that this is the same person we fell in love with and married with the same wonderful qualities and the same imperfections. But, back when we fall in love we are so much more willing to overlook things, to brush them aside, to not let them get to us. As we fall into a comfort zone with the people we love it becomes easier to let things get to us. It’s easy to get so comfortable with each other that you’re not so willing to overlook things and forget that this is still the person you love and cherish and you did marry them with all of those imperfections in place.
At the beginning of relationships we do something different. We are more tolerant. And as we grow together that tolerance wears off. We think we already have this person and we don’t need to be tolerant any longer. We take something that is perfect for us and want to make it an absolute perfect. Whether it’s observing other people or movies or television, the just perfect enough becomes not enough and we long for more. And what we don’t realize is that the more we want the less we are going to get. People are not perfect and love is not perfect. And plenty of writers have jumped on the ‘we must give 100 percent in our marriage” bandwagons. And that philosophy will probably ruin a lot of marriages that could have survived without that premise. 100 percent is not possible. Perfection is not possible.
Love is an interesting animal really. We fall in love and it’s all amazing, and then we want to change that love, because it becomes not enough, not quite perfect enough. If you think about it, this search for perfect is what kills what was already perfect for us.
My husband and I have come to this realization together through our talks and just time spent together in the wake of our tragedy. And I suppose that if we were to find the something “good” that has come out of this affair, it’s that we were already living our perfection, but didn’t realize that perfection does not mean “perfect”.
What perfect means to us is that we are a perfect fit for each other. We compliment each other. Our good and bad bounces off of each other in perfect harmony. Every day will be different with ups and downs and those days of nothing at all. We will love each other and annoy each other. And none of the disagreements or boredom will mean anything at all. We have realized that just because something isn’t going right does not mean anything is wrong. We may not look perfect to a single other soul, but to each other we are, and that’s really all that matters.