For the past five months, I’ve been seeing a guy who rocks my world. The sex is great, he’s adorable as fuck and we get along famously – most of the time. Even though budding love blinds me sometimes, I know damn well he isn’t “the one.” But that doesn’t say anything at all about our relationship, really.
So much of our education about romantic relationships revolves the idea of “the one.” We’re told that if we’re patient, eventually the one person on earth who was made for us will miraculously appear and make our lives complete. Even if that was true, there’s a low probability that they’d be living in the same city, country or even continent. Despite that, there’s probably a billion people on this planet who claim and believe they’ve found their “one.”
From my perspective, this sort of idealism is merely comforting in a discomforting world. If you think you’ve found your perfect partner, there’s no need to worry about being alone. You’ll never have to want for affection and the rest of your life is pretty much set. It also makes it you much less likely to branch out to find something new when “the one” turns out to be merely “the 0.25.” For my sanity, I like to take a more balanced look at the people I’m dating.
While I think the idea of “the one” is bunk – that’s a topic for another blog – I also think it’s sweet. So, while I would hope that there is a perfect person out there for me, I know I probably won’t find him, if he’s out there at all. That means what I’m really looking for is someone who’s close enough. Someone who can fill my life with joy, excitement, intrigue and everything that comes with companionship without forcing them to measure up to my idea of someone I’ve never actually met.
The guys I choose to spend my time with might not be perfect or perfect for me, but they’ll always be good enough to make me smile. They’ll still be a person I want to have hot sex and a lukewarm Big Boy breakfast buffet with. Hell, they may even be a person I want to spend the rest of my imperfect life with.
Bubby probably isn’t “the one”; at best he’s maybe “the 0.86.” On the first date, he was maybe “the 0.69.” Even still, he was the one I wanted to come back after we had sex on the first date. He was the one who made laugh. He was the one who made me happy and comfortable. He was the one who made me think and change my mind. He was the one who made me want to be his.
Sure, I could have waited for “the one,” though, if I did, I would have missed these past five months that have been full of a new kind of happiness. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but I would have missed that, too. If he ends up being by my side for life, I would have missed that as well. Instead of missing out, I chose to take the risk and, so far, it’s paid off.
When it comes to dating, finding someone who fits you is important, but the fit doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re not looking for jeans where if they don’t fit right your ass will look lumpy and misshapen. You’re looking for a person who is flawed but whole, and can make your life great.
Instead of longing for perfection that may not exist, why not be happy with being happy.