I want to preface this post by noting a few things. First, I’m sorry it’s so long. Secondly, this post has been sitting in my drafts folder for a long time because it took me a long time to find the words to write this. I hope you enjoy.
I’m far from a perfectionist. I don’t have perfectionistic tendencies in my everyday life. This is evident by simply observing my office desk. My system for filing important documents is less complicated than the first level of Donkey Kong. Basically, I subconsciously create “stacks” of paper and the “stack” that lies closest to me, is usually the most important (I say usually because sometimes I find the most important documents in my recycle bin). In college, I never thought even once about staying late after class or to attend a study group in order to learn a concept I didn’t quite grasp. Getting a great mark on a paper was never on my priority list. If I actually had a listing of priorities, I’m sure studying would have fallen somewhere after getting stoned and washing my socks. When I think about it, most of my priorities at that point in time fell after getting stoned and washing socks.
However, there is one part of my life that I have always been particular about. I have always been exceptionally picky about who I tend to date. I’ve always had this idea of what perfection is when it comes to finding someone to share my life with. I’m absolutely positive that my vision of so-called-perfection is absurdly jaded, but still, it’s what I cling to. There are certain qualities and unique criteria that someone needs to possess in order for me to sustain monogamy. Beauty plays a huge part in my vision of perfection. At first, beauty was pretty much my sole definition of perfection. If my best friend would be in awe of a girl I bring around, I would keep her around. I truly believed that nothing else mattered because my personality would mesh well with anyone if I wanted it to. In ways, I relate myself to Eddie in the movie America’s Sweethearts, starring John Cusack, Catherine Zeta Jones and Julia Roberts. Cusack’s character, Eddie, was heartbroken over the ever difficult Zeta Jones character, Gwen. It’s the classic story of a man pining over a woman that is somewhat unattainable only to figure out at the end that he is really in love with Gwen’s sister, Kiki (Julia Roberts). The movie is so easy to predict, you almost instantly guess that Eddie is going to end up with Kiki, it just made sense. In life, nothing ever makes sense. There was something about Eddie though, that drove him toward Gwen even though he knew she wasn’t right for him. This driving force was attraction. He was so fascinated with her beauty, her flawed personality never mattered. For the longest time, I was Eddie.
I have left most people that I have been with because they didn’t live up to my preconceived idea of what my significant other should be. I also believe that I have been left myself, for these same reasons. Even if I couldn’t deny my attraction to her, if she didn’t fit my mold, I would find reasons to leave. I broke up with my high school sweetheart one time (I say “one time” because in this particular case there was more than one break up) because she was heavy into the techno scene and I was a hip hop head. I ended up telling her that I could never be with someone who listened to techno. Except, my decision to break up with her wasn’t based on music at all; it was more based on my own hang ups on finding the perfection. We were together for two years and I knew that I just couldn’t spend the rest of my life with her because of my selfish, somewhat hypocritical, nature. I actually enjoyed techno for a brief stent.
On the flip side, when I was in college I met a girl who I thought, would definitely fit the bill. She was beautiful, smart, could cook and had a phenomenal chest. She was a journalism student at the University of Colorado with dreams of someday writing a chicana based novel. We were both from the same neighborhood and enjoyed listening to “Low Rider Oldies,” while we drank. We made sense. We ended up staying together for two years until the selfish side of her came out. I didn’t understand it at the time, how she just woke up one day and decided to fuck everything up. However I have gained perspective over the years and I totally understand how she felt, even though it was the hardest single thing I’ve ever had to accept (as far as relationships are concerned. I accepted the fact I would never be a professional boxer a long time before this and that was a hard pill to swallow). I know that I wasn’t the most handsome guy she could attain. Hell, I wasn’t the smartest either. In essence, she forced herself to settle for me. She was my real life Gwen. Only she didn’t have a beautiful sister for me to fall in love with.
As I’ve grown into an actual adult, I’ve realized that you can’t just look for beauty. Not because the odds of actually landing a supermodel are equivalent to the chances of succesfully growing marijuana fields in Antarctica but because I’ve realized that, there needs to be more for me. Which, of course, makes my equation for finding “the one” far more complex. If I eliminated 65% of single girls just because of my high standards in regards to beauty, I will ultimately eliminate another 25% based on personality. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t be monogamous with Megan Fox for the rest of my life because at some point I will demand more from her. I will demand more than her eyes and perfect figure can offer, I’ve learned that much about myself. The idea of finding someone who is absolutely perfect probably seems like a very selfish concept to most because most intelligent people would argue that nobody’s perfect and it is illogical to assume that I will eventually find what I am looking for. I accept that. I acknowledge that it’s hypocritical of me, considering that I am one of the biggest sinners I know- my personality is insanely flawed. I just can’t help the way I feel about this. Somewhere in the 10% of women left, is the woman who I’m looking for. My Kiki.
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