The instant I notice myself slipping down the road of grumbling and fussing over some inane or innocuous something-or-other I think the Love of My Life is doing (or has done), I stop. Switch gears. Remember my truth about this man. In that nanosecond my perspective shifts.
I’ve listened to hundreds of women grumble about their men. Holding onto grudges, remembering slights, rehashing imperfections over and over and over … ad nauseum.”I love him but …”. “It’d be great if he would only ….”. “I surprised him for his birthday with [fill in the blank] and he completely forgot mine!” Once upon a time I participated. No more. Now I walk away. The reason is quite simple:
He ain’t perfect, but he’s perfect for me!
Any finger-pointing I could possibly come up with would have more coming back at me. Yes he has F-I-Qs (foibles, isms and quirks). So do I. (And a beep load more!)
Yes we’re very different. Our world views are different. Neither is the other’s “type.” He approaches life head on. Takes it for all it’s worth. Pushes his boundaries and then pushes them more. I am slow to heal. Takes me years to recover from things that have happened. Makes me cautious and gun-shy about venturing forth.
He lives in the moment. Totally and completely. Me? I’m in the moment for the millisecond I’m flitting between “what was” and “what will be.”
Doesn’t matter. Because, he ain’t perfect, but he’s perfect for me!
As for looks well, while we haven’t been asked to wear bags over our heads, neither of us would win a beauty contest. He says he’s been “ridden hard and put up wet.” Hair? He’s at the watching-his-forehead-grow-daily stage. That’s the one where those former head hairs take up residence in other places … such as ears, nose and even eyebrows. (Do I hear caterpillar on steroids?)
Yours truly still has curves. (I liken myself to a walrus … sort of spread out.) As for gravity, well she’s made herself known. What was once up here is now down there. What was once classified as firm now wiggles and jiggles. And hair? Still on top of my head (though I remain ever vigilant of uninvited hairs thinking they can take up residence on my chin).
Yet when the Love of My Life refers to me, it’s always as “Hey Beautiful.” I refer to him as my “He-Man.” When I think of him — when I look at him — I feel myself glowing. Getting warm and tingly and thoroughly enveloped in his love. I see delightful crinkles around his eyes,. I feel his strong arms embracing me. I feel cherished and secure.
The most important component of our relationship is we love one another, unconditionally. Unconditional love means accepting the other’s F-I-Qs. Accepting their imperfection. Accepting their humanness. Accepting their bodily noises. Accepting them irritating us. Accepting them having F-I-Qs we can’t relate to. None of those matter. They are simply part and parcel of the whole. “The whole” being the person we love. And love him I do, unconditionally. (As he does me.)
So let me say it again. Better still, let me shout from the rooftop. “He ain’t perfect, but he’s perfect for me.”
Here’s wishing you your own “perfect for me.”
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