Once upon the days, I dreamed that my man was perfect. Not perfect per se, but perfect for me in the ways that I wanted to be treated and loved. He was the one who saw and appreciated the person that I am, the one who did his best to understand, love and deal with faults in my self that can not be changed, the one who knew that compromise was the key. The one that I could be completely honest and free with. The one who showed me the woman that I had held inside. He was the one who would sacrifice. The one who would take me home. Perfect.

I first saw that perfection when the time came that I could deny myself to him no longer, while as he was giving himself to me he said, “Tell me that I am wrong.” I knew that he saw what I could not admit, and by my not being able to tell him what he wanted to hear the admission was clear. He was able to see a secret in my heart that had not yet reveled itself even to me – that no matter how much my brain denied the way he made me feel, my heart would not deny it in his arms. The realization that he could see into my heart, that he could be what I had been waiting for, frightened me so badly that the next morning I told him that it wouldn’t work, I couldn’t be with him. By that night something inside of me was screaming not to give him up, and I took back what I had said. Second sight of perfection – he put the ill for me that he was feeling aside and listened. Afraid as I was of the thought that this man was my everything, I chose to jump headfirst into the relationship that now defines my life.

Honestly, it has never been easy. Perfect as he may be, everyone has their faults, and even with as much of me as he can see, he at times becomes blinded by his insecurities. There have been years where fighting seemed constant, and times when one or both of us have thought of leaving. Times when we saw and gave the worst of one another, times that in our anger and despair we were blind to one another. Yet, the love was constant. No matter what we have felt, neither of us could ever deny it. Always, he has shown his perfection by having the ability to let that love conquer any ill feeling – by being willing to look, and listen, and compromise – by dealing with parts of me that I couldn’t deal with myself. While I was lost in the face of my worst fear and not being much of a person to love at all, still he stayed, still he loved me anyway. Perfect.