I’m not going to rattle off a list of interests we need to have in common because I’ve been in enough relationships to know that having a mutual appreciation of Doctor Who and Motion City Soundtrack does not necessarily mean that a relationship is going to be a healthy one. I don’t have definite expectations in regards to personality because I’m not the same person I was ten years ago or ten days ago or ten minutes ago. I’ve changed and I will change and so will she.
I have no idea how we’re going to meet, because planning that out when you still have no idea where you’ll be five years from now is bordering on idiotic. Maybe she’ll be a single mom and I’ll be a washed-up English professor and we’ll meet at a rainy bus station when she offers to share her umbrella. Maybe we’ve known each other since elementary school but now only see each other on Facebook but next week we’ll run into each other at a gas station and I’ll ask her to eat ice cream with me. It will probably be neither of those things.
My perfect girl won’t be mine. She’ll be hers, and I’ll be mine, and we’ll be ours. And she won’t be perfect. She’ll be very much imperfect. We’ll be imperfect together. And it will be awesome.