Many, maybe most, of us are prey at some time in our life to the notion that there is a perfect mate for us somewhere out there in the world. Nearly all of us get over this idea. It isn't to say that we settle for something less; it's that perfection is impossible and we accept reality.
Unfortunately, I am very disinclined to accept either that perfection is impossible or that reality is worth signing up for. More unfortunately still, I keep nominating women to be that Perfect Other, and then I'm surprised when they turn out not to be. Or more often I totally fail to follow up on finding out if she could be at least some close approximation of a perfect match, and eventually she winds up with somebody more aggressive (at last count, everybody). A disinterested observer would probably conclude (A: that I'm nuts, but also B:) that I was so burned by the last relationship that I'm too scared to get anywhere near the fire again. This would be a reasonable inference. But I think I'm going ahead anyway, given the chance. Anyway (mistyped "anywazy," which I think I'm going to coin now), I at least feel grown up enough now not to worry about finding the Other One. After all, one of me is quite enough!
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