On Being Perfect

Once upon my life, I wanted to be perfect. Nowadays as I comprehend the frailties of human emotions, not so much. See I could pretend I was perfect or maybe even believe that I am perfect, in either case, I'm sure I would end up being locked in facility for observation. If I believe I am perfect, well than I have some very delusional thoughts that at some point will come sreeching to a halt when my life falls apart, maybe at first just being fired for the first time, which I could would always say it was "mutual" and really, I'm destined for bigger and better things than that crappy job.Then say I pick up some bad habits along the way, a cocktail before noon (it's five o'clock somewhere right?). And then I meet this great guy in the little "bistro" I frequent to read the help wanted ads while sipping a Campari and soda. Along the way this guy chips on my perfect veneer, not to get to know me any better, but perhaps just so he feels superior. Eventually, I go from believing I am perfect to believing I am nothing without him. One psychosis exchanged for another. I have gone from delusions of grandeur to feelings of inadequacies. By now I may or may not be aware of this.. Either case I'm screwed. And perfect people don't get screwed..remember their perfect right?



Fast forward a few years and you have managed to mostly survive, some wear and tear but mostly all of it is hidden inside . Not in the vault though, I have trusted confidants, a therapist and a psychaitrist. My family? Not so much, they saw enough when I was going through it. Which isn't to say they don't care, because they do alot. My husband? And here is the crux of the matter, my husband thinks I'm perfect. That's an idea I gave up about a decade or so ago. I can not be comfortable being perfect, I'm human. Anyone who thinks someone else is perfect is in for a let down eventually. Inevitable. Unavoidable, high probabilty and then what happens?