About 4 years ago I made a list of who my perfect boyfriend would be. I had things like
- Funny
- Tall
- A little goofy
- Outdoorsy
- Likes to watch sports (especially UNC Tarheels)
- Social
- Likes music, reading and movies
- Enjoys traveling
- Adventurous
- Outgoing
- Conservative
- Financially stable
I also had a list of things my boyfriend would not be, obvious things that most people wouldn't want, but given my background of being naturally attracted to addicts, I needed to make that list.
And so I went about trying to find my perfect mate while at the same time working on myself and the things I had to offer someone. I went through all the venues of online dating, going through the list of men I already knew and of course, trying the ol' bar scene.
Frustration quickly ensued because I felt confident in my qualities as a good girlfriend, but I knew that my outer appearance was stopping me from getting in the door of all the good ones. I was frustrated that men wouldn't see past my flaws. But at the same time, I was judging and going through profiles and dating resumes and making decisions based on photos and some words on a screen from other men. Hypocrisy at it's finest...I didn't want people to judge me by what was on a profile, but that's exactly what I was doing.
And then I met the man I am dating now.
We met at a casual restaurant in town and had a couple of drinks. He was nice enough, I enjoyed our easy conversation but it wasn't terribly meaningful and there definitely weren't fireworks.
I was lonely, he was safe and that's why I originally agreed to see him.
As I look back now, he does have many of the characteristics on that list....he loves music, he's tall, funny, social, etc....but when we first met, he didn't match the picture in my head and I almost declined his invitation.
You see, I thought I wanted a cookie cutter, white collared, corporate man who wanted to go out every weekend and hang out with my friends. Someone with whom I could travel, go to the movies, read and talk about books and go to concerts.
But what I really wanted is who I have now. He is definitely not a cookie cutter, white collared, corporate man....He is his own person who I affectionately and loving say is one step away from a hippy. He has his own style, he thinks deeply but isn't judgemental of others, he challenges me on my views when I need to be challenged (even though this infuriates me because he's usually right), he likes to be social but he also enjoys staying in, he becomes more of a UNC fan with each passing football and basketball season and he's financially stable.
All of those things are nice, yet the list is full of items that people do....it's not necessarily who they are as a person...it's not a list of characteristics of things that I now know I NEED in order to feel loved and appreciated and cared about.
I don't love him because he goes to UNC football games with me....I love him because he took the time to see who I am on the inside and because of that, he also loves who I am on the outside. He understands my need to snuggle up close on the couch, put my arms around him and feel his safety surround me. He does things for me simply because he sees they need to be done. He listens to my deepest darkest secrets and thoughts which should scare him off, yet he says the most wonderful things and makes me love him more for accepting me. EXACTLY AS I AM, TODAY. He doesn't try to change me, though somehow I can't help but to be wonderfully changed just because he's part of my life. Consequently each beautiful act of love he shows me, makes me want to give something of myself right back to him.
Yet, I would have missed every bit of this deep human connection, had I not decided to stray from my list.
What has all of this taught me? It has taught me that you don't need a check sheet of what a person should be, look like or do in order to make a good match for you. There is only one thing that person should fulfill....
Love should give you the freedom to be yourself!
Throw out your list and take the risk.
Love and be loved.
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