I don’t need someone who will drop everything at a moment’s notice, who will stand by my side and never waver, who will be perfect in every single way, even when life gets messy. I don’t need someone who will promise to always say the right things, who will never make mistakes, who will bite his tongue when we fight.
I don’t need someone who shines in the light, who never speaks out of turn, who looks at me like I’m flawless. Because I’m not. I’m not at all.
I don’t need an ‘ideal’ love, the ‘relationship goals,’ the kind of connection that you only see in fairy tales. I don’t need something that looks pretty for the rest of the world but lacks substance.
When it comes down to it, all I want is someone who’s real.
He doesn’t have to be my knight in shining armor. He doesn’t have to be dressed in the finest clothes or adorned with the fancy things. He doesn’t have to look a certain way, or hold a certain job, or be a certain status. He doesn’t have to always speak with caution and care. He doesn’t always have to put me first. He doesn’t need to buy expensive things or take me on lavish dates just to keep my attention.
He just has to be his imperfect self. Because I will love him for who he is.
See, to me, love is not about being beautiful. It’s not about having something that the world envies because of how amazing it appears, how good it looks, how perfect it seems. To me, love is not about possessing this sort of connection that never fades, never questions, never doubts.
Because in all honesty, love is messy. Love is complicated. Love is, by its very design, meant to be imperfect. Because we are imperfect.
And so it doesn’t matter to me if I have the ‘best,’ the ‘spotless,’ the ‘ideal.’ I don’t want a person who is cookie-cutter, always doing the right thing, never challenging me, never growing with me, never bending or compromising or making mistakes. I don’t want to fall in love with someone who’s static, who completes me in ways that look nice, but don’t feel genuine.
I’ve had enough of temporary love, of placeholder love, of love that appears wonderful on the surface but lacks all the depth and mess of something real. I don’t care about having something that the world looks at and says, ‘That’s perfect.’ Perfect is overrated. I want real.
I want a man who will argue with me, a man who will make mistakes (and lots of them), a man who will fail and fall down and start all over with me by his side. I want a man who pushes me to become better, a man who believes in me but knows there’s always room for improvement in both of us.
I want a man who will get vulnerable with me, who will confess his darkest secrets and fears. I want a man who’s comfortable telling me what he thinks, even if it will upset me or I won’t agree.
I want a man who has genuine intentions and passion I can feel.
I don’t want a superhero, a prince charming, a savior. I don’t want anything other than an imperfect soul intertwining his arms, his hands, his heart with me.
And I want us to choose each other, build each other, frustrate each other, and love the hell out of each other every single day.