When I was a teenager, full of romantic notions and hopes and dreams about my future, I thought I would one day fall in love with an exotic foreign man with an accent. In time, I added to "the list" specific criteria about said man, such as: "must be tall," "must write poetry," "must play guitar and/or piano, and sing," "must be liberal," "must have dreadlocks, or at least be bohemian," and so on and so forth. Eventually, my list grew to include "must love dogs," "must be able to support himself," and "must like my friends and family." I didn't think my requirements were too ambitious...either for a guy to live up to, or for me to hold out for.
Enter Adam, circa fall 1998. Sure, he was tall, he had an (New York City) accent, loved dogs and got on well with my loved ones...but, what about the bohemian liberal poet-musician from the other side of the world that I had been waiting for? How could I allow myself to fall in love with someone who didn't measure up to my pre-ordained man? Over the last twelve years as we have dated, fallen in love, nearly split up, fallen deeper in love, gotten engaged, married and become parents together, I have sometimes felt my heart tweak a little when a friend's husband makes her an awesome crafty gift for Valentine's Day, or I see a TV guy serenade his intended with a perfectly melodious tune. Adam, try as he might, isn't crafty in the least and can't carry a tune if his life depended on it. But, I've found, I don't love him in spite of these things, I love him because of them. To love someone is to love the whole picture--warts, wrinkles and all. If Adam were the perfect bohemian poet I thought I wanted, perhaps he wouldn't also be the grease monkey who shows his love by changing my oil every few months, thoroughly detailing the inside of my car and making sure that every little rattle, ping and bump gets checked out by the mechanic. If he met every single criterion on my list, I might not have a guy who would enthusiastically watch all seven seasons of "Gilmore Girls" with me, go on long hikes through the forest while I birdwatch, or want to work on home renovation projects for days at a time. And while he's not the left-wing liberal I thought I required of a partner, our differences in political and social opinions spur interesting debates and conversations in our household that help us grow in intellect, self-identity and compassion. He challenges me, he keeps me thinking, he motivates me.
Adam has shown me that the list was not as all-encompassing as I'd thought; there are things that I didn't even realize were important to me until he came into my life. Add to that fact, I'm sure there are qualities about me that don't measure up to Adam's list, namely that I'm an entire foot shorter than him...
I have friends who haven't found the love they've been waiting years for simply because they are too steadfast in their desire to find a mate who meets every single bullet on their lists. I know they've likely passed up great opportunities with awesome people because of this idea that the "perfect person" is out there who will match all their requirements. While I don't believe that there is any one perfect person, I do think that there are many really fantastic people who can make our worlds go round...and yet, on paper, they might not match the list at all. So what if a potential partner doesn't measure up to the list? Why not take a leap and see whether those criteria you once thought were so important end up measuring up to your partner?
Meanwhile, I'll write love letters and poems to Adam, and maybe he'll write something back in kind. Or maybe he won't. But I know, without a doubt, that my car's engine will purr, the gutters will be leaf-free, the porch will be painted and Bryony, Adam and I will have long walks in the woods upon his return. I don't need a list to tell me that I have it good.
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