“Never contract friendship with a man that is not better than thyself.”

Confucious

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I was talking to a dear friend, and they said, “You are such a perfect human,” with no hint of irony or humor. They were actually serious! Of course, we all know that isn’t remotely true, but it was shocking to learn that anyone who’s spent more than an hour in my presence could earnestly consider me… perfect. And then I thought about that fantastic but often-exaggerated word. According to my dude Webster, one of the denotations of perfect is satisfying all requirements (love, Love, LOVE, that definition!). And when we call one another perfect, I believe that’s what we most often mean. Not that we’re without fault, flaws, or defects, but that we nestle perfectly into one of the barren or broken caverns of our hearts.

Sadly, we sometimes try to force perfection where it does not exist. We shave off or ignore the sharp, painful edges of others because of our love or perceived need for them. We cram them into our hearts and spend our time apart medicating the wounds caused by their jagged edges. And that’s okay; love is forgiveness and understanding, but being wounded certainly isn’t perfection. And if we’re honest with ourselves, we know we’ve caused our fair share of cardiovascular scrapes and bruises along the way. Being hurt is a part of loving another human, and it’s a part I’ve always welcomed. Because every once in a while, I find that person who may not be perfect in the universal connotation, but my heart can’t tell the difference.

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I have been blessed to know someone who just might qualify for every definition of the word perfect. Not only does he nestle perfectly within my heart, but it seems to be universal. I’ve heard the phrase, “Mathew is perfect,” more than I can count. And it’s always spoken with sincerity and awe. What amazes me most is that my Mathew has never caused me even the smallest amount of emotional discomfort. I never need protection from his sharp edges. You’d think that after almost eight years of close friendship, there would have been a hurtful misunderstanding or a time when I needed him, and he couldn’t be there for me – but no.

Life is messy and hard. It’s a winding road of soul-searching, ambition-seeking, and desperation to feel loved. And for some, it ultimately equates to decades of survival, sprinkled with swift flashes of perfection that streak the sky of our lives for what feels like seconds. We pretend that things are perfect because we incur so many debilitating disappointments. But thankfully, I never need to pretend – which is great because I really suck at it! The past decade has yielded an incalculable number of twists and turns, blessings and bruises. But through it all, one comfort stands above the rest; perfection is always a text or phone call away for me because that’s all it takes to reach my Mathew.