I recall the good old bedtime story nights with my grandma,. She never failed to weave a tale, usually a romantic one, that I suspect was either her own creation or a dream of hers. Little did I know how profoundly those stories would impact me until recently.
Her stories often revolved around a handsome prince who falls in love with a common girl. He would charm her with his looks and wit, sweep her off her feet, make her question their compatibility, convince her they were meant to be, and then elope with her into the sunset on his horse to live happily ever after.
Listening to these fairy tales night after night subconsciously shaped my idea of "Mr. Perfect." I hate my grandma today for planting that seed of "Mr. Perfect" in my head all those years ago.
I
had become that very common girl on the quest to find my "Mr. Perfect" without fully understanding the implications of that redundant story. Looking back, I realise how wrong it was on so
many levels and definitely not a baton to be passed on to the younger
generations.
The common girl in those stories was portrayed as shy, timid, and unable to stand up for herself. She avoided pursuing her crush, lacked ambition, and believed that love would simply find her. I had unknowingly adopted these traits in my search for Mr. Perfect.
“Finding love” or rather “for love to find me” had become my sole destiny.
So I waited for my "Mr. Perfect".
Over the years, many men came close to fitting the bill, but none were quite right. Some lacked a sense of humor, others didn't approach me with respect, and some failed to earn my trust. Some, well didn't go the extra mile to woo me.
So close but yet so far from my "Mr. Perfect". Undeterred, I continued with my quest.
As I approached my 28th birthday, I realized that my quest for Mr. Perfect had led me down a path that was more about unrealistic expectations than true love. It was time to redefine what I was looking for in a partner and let go of the fairy tale notion of perfection.
Haunted by these thoughts, I confided in my mother about my quest and grandma’s story. She burst into laughter and asked me if I knew my grandfather. He had died long before I was born so I didn't have much clue. My mother revealed that my grandma’s Mr. Perfect was a drunk retard who fell down the well and drowned to his death.
“Whaaaat
!!” I gasped. My mom woke me up from my dream into reality and said “Dear,
there is no Mr. Perfect. There is hardly any "Mr. Decent" these days and when you
find a Mr. Decent you like, you hold on to him. Mr. Perfect is a myth just like
your grandma’s stories.”
My
family then found me my Mr. Decent and I have decided to marry him. Hope he doesn’t
turn out to be a drunk retard too. Even if he does, I’m definitely not telling
the “Mr. Perfect” story to my grandkids.
Cheers!
Will be back with another one soon.
