My Opinion on Perfection

When you ask a man to describe his “perfect woman,” you usually wind up with a glorified golden retriever, or Mother Teresa in a thong. Women don’t fare much better, as they usually talk about a square-jawed plastic action figure who loves to do the dishes. As with anything romantic, the clichés are pervasive and suffocating. There is too little room for quirks, flaws, or surprises.

Nobody will ever be perfect, which is a blessing. We can’t heap all of our love, needs, and passion onto one person. Soulmates are for suckers. Life is about building many, many connections, until they add up to something perfect.

But we all have times when we’re our best selves. And I'm on the record as saying that men are pretty cool. So here are a few of the “perfect” men I’ve known (mostly friends, as that’s where I’ve been the luckiest):

The man who remembered how much I love Gerber daisies, researched them on Wikipedia, and brought them to me for Valentine’s Day.

The man who talked me into bagging work for the afternoon to go play on some waterslides.

The man who could derail any staff meeting by weighing in on Asian hookers, or by washing down PopRocks with Dr. Pepper.

The man who walked around DC with me until seven in the morning, just because I was at loose ends and had worn flats that night.

The man who, despite the tough-guy sarcasm and home tattoo, sent me soup when I was sick and will always have the bail money ready.

The man who kept a SuperSoaker in the gun rack of his truck.

The man who decided to join the girls’ team, because life is just more fun that way.

The man who has spent eight years of his life listening to the same stupid story about bartering for hamburgers at Tysons Corner.

The man who flunked me for misspelling Albuquerque, because that’s where I learned that details matter.

The man whose album collection could eat Texas, and still have room for dessert.

The man who showed up at the airport with a cooler of root beer.

The man who knows everything, from GPS autodrives to why I decided to climb a tree in a dominatrix outfit, but isn't afraid to admit when he’s wrong.

All the men who have let me take care of them when they’re sick, lonely, or afraid.

The men who were everything I didn’t need: the players, the providers, the psychos, the stalkers. And the men who were exactly what I needed at the time: fun, encouraging, solid, brave, rebellious or silly.

I could go on forever, because I’ve met so many amazing men. All of my “perfect” guys are flawed, none of them will grace the cover of Vanity Fair, and I bet none of them dream of washing the dishes while massaging my feet.

Perfection has nothing to do with arbitrary ideals or conventional romance. Instead, the “Perfect Man” is one who inspires you. He makes you want to be your best self. You want to be kinder, sweeter, smarter, wiser and braver. The “perfect man” makes you wish that you could be perfect yourself.

"Perfection” comes from within. Seek out the people who turn you into your best self, and the rest will work itself out.