I often feel the need to tell my girlfriend “I love you”, and her response is invariably a surprised and incredulous, “why!?”. She has a point.
My girlfriend is a terrible person. She was a terrible person when I met her. She will be a terrible person long after she has murdered me to collect my expensive life insurance policy. That is why I like her so much.
She is self-indulgent, self-absorbed, self-centered and innately un-reliable. She is messy. She is lazy. She drinks too much. She beats me. She is flawed in every way possible. She is perfect for me.
She likes impressionist art and antique furniture. Her taste in music is uglier than a sumo’s butthole. She spends all her money, and usually smells strange. She wakes me up with her night terrors. She craves attention from other men, yet becomes insanely jealous if another woman makes the mistake of existing in the same hemisphere as me. I can’t get enough of her.
Why? She makes me smile. We understand each other. We get along amazingly well, and on the rare occassions where we disagree, we do it respectfully, and in a sensitive manner. We love spending time together. We also love spending time apart, because we trust in the inherent strength and goodness of our relationship. We definitely don’t smother each other, or allow our basic human insecurities to cramp each other’s style. Whatever we do wrong in the future, it is already forgiven. Basically, we go together like rama lama lama, ke dinga de ding ke dong.
But how is this possible? Gather round kiddies, it’s time for King Max to mind-fuck your brain pussies. Our secret really isn’t a secret at all. We just embrace our imperfections. When Mistress Kay and I met, we were already fully formed, reasonably functioning adults. We were people. We had our own personal histories, our own perspectives and world view, backed up entire lifetimes worth of experiences.
I think a lot of people in relationships forget that. Your partner is not you. They will never be you. They are a (an?) unique individual, with idiosyncracies and idiosyncrazies, and they will never change. You should not ask them to. It is on you to accept them for who they are. Get over the small stuff, and appreciate the time you have together. Don’t get me wrong, no relationship is all daffodils and unicorn farts. Sometimes she can be annoying as hell. Most times I can be annoying as hell. You’ll hear no complaints however, because a relationship is a commitment. Once you are in it, be in it to win it. Accept it, embrace it, take satisfaction in it. Don’t worry about how green the grass might be in your hot neighbor’s panties. You just concern yourself with the snaggly weeds growing from your girlfriend’s faded and threadbare burlap drawers. Because those are your weeds. You decided to love them, so love them damn it.
The fact that any woman can put up with me is a glorious miracle. I am complete garbage. The only times i’m not acting like an asshole are the times when i’m being a dick. I am always impatient. I am intolerant of weakness. I tug on strings and manipulate people. I appreciate a good bit of uber-violence. I flirt with every female I see. I mean it when I do. I’m shallow. I have an over-developed sense of self worth. I like jokes. I mean, I really like jokes. Like, if I had to chose between a big titty in my mouth, or an okay joke, i’d chose the joke. If, with all that, Mistress Kay is still content to crawl into bed beside me every night, how can I not return the favor? You know what? I like me. I wouldn’t change me for anyone. Can I, in good conscience, ask someone else to change for me? Easy answer. I can not.
I am not perfect. Neither is my girlfriend. That is why she is perfect for me.