Sunday, August 7, 2016

Perfect

Circa 2011
I wish this picture was a joke.

I’m very flawed.

I don’t say that to be cute and self-depreciative. I have many friends and relatives who just chortled and nodded and who are now saying, “Hey! I snickered! I don’t chortle!”
You chortle, baby. You chortle.

I am socially anxious. I have obsessive tendencies. I cry a lot. I overanalyze everything. I get overwhelmed easily. I get sweaty when I’m stressed out. I don’t know how to cook rice. Like literally 100% of the time I have tried to make real rice for dinner (crazily processed box stuff turns out fine) we are shocked and amazed by my uncanny ability to have destroyed it once again. I am very in-my-own-head and often laugh out loud at odd moments. I have no qualms about leaving a project unfinished for an indefinite period of time. I could go on.

Ryan is very flawed. I don’t want to write a whole paragraph about his flaws but he’s, you know, awful in some ways. I’m sure his co-workers would gladly attest to that. He says weird things and does weird things and bails on like 95% of the social engagements he agrees to. And every single night he pulls off the covers and burritos up in them, snores the night away while I try to pull them back onto myself, then claims that he didn’t sleep well at all.

But regardless of all these flaws, we wake up every morning and love each other. We love each other’s weirdness. I love the weird things he shouts out when he enters a room. He loves the way I randomly invent a gruesome murder story from the sight of a shoe on the side of a road. I love it when he grows his beard out into a long, weird cone thing everybody else hates. He loves the way I laugh too much, especially at even his least-funny jokes.

We are weirdos with strange habits who are somehow perfect for each other.

He is obsessed with Alaska and someday homesteading in a cabin in the woods. So am I.
I feel completely disgusted when someone sits on my bed. So does he.
He likes to be in charge. I feel like I’ll throw up if I’m left in charge.
I like doing ridiculous dances to cheesy 90s music. He is an even better ridiculous dancer.

We love each other through the weirdness. We love each other in spite of the weirdness. Best of all, we love each other because of the weirdness.


I think we’re perfect for each other. 

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