Perfect

Perfect by Ed Sheeran is a romantic fairytale of a song. It is beautiful. It is lyrical perfection. I imagine this song has been played thousands of times at weddings and high school dances across the world (and not just because it's a waltz). And the video — which has over 2 billion views, well — there's even a kitten in it! 

I hesitate to use the word "perfect" because there is no such thing as perfection in this world. But I've used that word to describe the woman I love. I don't know if love simply blinds us to imperfections or what, but some people really do seem perfect. 

During my recent visit to Nebraska, I got to hang out with the woman I am head over heels in love with. The last day, she told me I should see her as she really is without any makeup, with her hair up, and in her jammies. What did she expect me to see? I still saw the beautiful woman I'm in love with. Nothing changed for me. I'd love to wake up next to that every day. Trying to look and act perfect every damn day is exhausting. Only she doesn't have to try. She just looks perfect to me no matter what.

But here's the thing. She really is perfect. I know she is a flawed human being. Trust me, I know. I know it as well as I know my own soul. But there is that rare person who feels perfect for us. That's what she is. It feels like she was made for me, like I was made for her. We have our thorny parts, but our best parts fit together like a puzzle completed. There's no good way to say it other than, "She's perfect for me."

What else can I say about someone who means so much to me? I've boiled it down and extracted the very marrow of us. And yet I know so little about how we work. It's mysterious. It's a little like magic. It's humbling because I don't really know how it works. But here's a woman I can have a real conversation with and also sit with in silence, and it all feels the same. It's comfortable. Like home. 

She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She points out my strangeness. She asks questions. She makes me think and feel. But mostly, she makes me feel complete. I only hope she feels a fraction of those things when with me.

When I'm with her, I don't miss all the days we could have had. In those moments together, it is enough to just be together. I'm full and not lacking. How can a woman just be who she is and it all makes sense? I feel lucky even thinking someday maybe I can be friends with her.

Maybe we're meant to know trouble and heartache before we know the person who is right for us. Maybe that's part of the plan. Maybe we never would have seen it otherwise. All I know is I've never seen perfection in any other woman's eyes but hers. I may not know how to be with her — and I may never get the chance — but my heart has stopped searching. It knows it will never find a woman as perfect as her.