Probably the worst thing about love is the perfect man.
The one you’re sure exists, even if you’ve never met him.
The one that you daydream about and wish could be reality.
That man who not only sweeps you off your feet,
But that you want to be swept by.
The man whose cologne you can smell,
Even though you’ve never met him.
The one who you can sit with for hours upon end
Saying everything in the world, without opening your mouth.
The one who knows you, even though you don’t know yourself.
That man who stops your breath with a glance.
Who penetrates your heart with a word.
Encompasses your soul with a mere thought.
The man whose touch brings shivers,
long past the stage of intimacy.
Yes, this man, is the nemesis of love.
For you always wonder if you’ll ever meet this man.
Think of how it would be to love someone like him.
While you embrace someone else, you wish he were that man.
But this man, like perfection, doesn’t exist.
He’s an ideal in your head.
And as you walk down the aisle with less than a dream,
You wonder if that man does exist, if you’re making a mistake.
That man, that perfect man, is the sole enemy to love.
For he steals away someone perfect for you,
With the dream of absolute, unattainable perfection.