PERSONAL ESSAY | NON-FICTION | RELATIONSHIPS

There’s Never Going to Be One Perfect Person

Let’s just accept it

My ex was in sales, and great at it. He used to make his older clients laugh by joking about his product, “It may not be the best, but it’s damn good.” There was a lot to choose from out there, and he rarely lost a sale. When it comes to human interactions, there’s a lot to choose from, too. How do you thin the herd?

I’ve long been fascinated by the dynamics of non-traditional relationships, particularly those situations where people have multiple partners, perhaps even long-term ones, sometimes living all together in the same house. I know people who practice polyamory. I have friends with open marriages who seem to function quite well.

No judgment from me. But I do think perhaps those alternative relationships arise from the reality no one likes to discuss, mainly that no one person is going to ‘check all the boxes’ for us, all least not all the time. We fill in the missing bits and pieces from other people.

“There is never going to be one perfect person whose love is so powerful that it checks all the boxes.” — Esther Perel

I have a long-time friend, Richard — I’ve known him much longer than my husband. Richard and he are great buddies now. I absolutely adore Richard and he returns my affection. I could sit and talk to him for hours on end. He’s highly-intelligent, intellectual, and more than a little quirky. Eccentricity is my Achilles’ heel — it’s always held an enormous appeal for me.

Oddly enough, my Sailor husband is a wild man, but no one would ever describe him as eccentric. In his case, sexy as hell apparently works.

Richard is a good-looking man, educated and gracious, but as appealing as he is, I’ve never been sexually attracted to him. I’ve never once thought I’d like to kiss him. He’s brilliant, in his off-center, Albert Einstein kind of way, and we have just the best philosophical conversations. I know he’s enormously fond of me in the same way. In no way diminishing my relationship with my husband, talking with Richard just feeds something deep within my soul that my soul needs.

In contrast, whenever I look at my husband, it feeds something entirely different deep within me. And that’s probably what makes the world go ‘round.

My husband is well aware of my fondness for Richard — I told him about it from the beginning — and he has no issue with any of this. He knows it’s no threat to him. And I’m well aware he has lifelong artist friends with whom he has similar relationships, even some whom I suspect were girlfriends at one time, (as well as some who still would like to be), although like any wise man he tends to skirt that issue. They were with him during the darkest time of his life, and bonds forged through rough times or periods when we painfully grow as a person are especially strong.

I’d love to think I’m the only star in his sky, but the truth is those friends fulfill a part of him that I cannot. These are lifelong friendships, bonds created in a different life, when he was a person I’ve never known. They’re from another time and place, but rather than causing jealousy, it makes me feel happy that he has them. In some ways, it even eases the relationship burden. He can be intense.

That said, there are one or two who have crossed the line over into disrespect, which I will not tolerate. We discussed it, and that was that. It’s an admittedly fine line, to be sure. It’s just one of those ‘you know it when you see it’ kind of things.

Similarly, my best friend from law school is a man, and any lawyer will tell you law school is like a boot camp. It’s stressful, harsh, overwhelming, sometimes humiliating; definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Your friends there are your lifeline.

My friend, actually my best friend, is a breathtakingly successful attorney, a powerful man, exceptionally handsome. He has more charisma than nature should allow. We live in different States and practice in totally separate areas of law, but our connection is strong. In the same way my husband’s artist friends and he have their own particular dialogue, my attorney friend and I talk law.

It’s so meaningful, so fulfilling, to discuss legal theories, concepts, nuances, and strategies with each other, and it’s something we can’t really share with our spouses. They don’t have the background for one thing, and we bore them silly with it for another. Glazed eyes are never conducive to great conversations, I find. And when the hubs tries to tell me how to practice law, it doesn’t go over well, to put it mildly.

I’m grateful for these people. I think these other affinities, although definitely platonic, round my husband and me out. They satisfy some small little dry place deep inside that we can’t water for each other. It’s a welcome break from the expectations inherent in committed relationships.

This is not to say that there will never be other people who don’t absolutely knock your socks off — we just don’t go there. We acknowledge it, but we don’t play. There will always be the opportunity to throw it all away, no matter who you are.

People view us as nearly the perfect couple, but the fact is we aren’t deliriously in love every minute, we aren’t happy all the time. Sometimes that makes us vulnerable. We get tired of each other on occasion.

I believe successful marriages or relationships depend on a conscious, deliberate choice, on a commitment to the relationship itself. And if you’re wise, you make that decision long before a choice arises, because they will arise. In our case, even if neither of us checks every box for the other, we check enough of them to make it work.

Although I’m totally open-minded about multiple consensual relationships between consenting adults, I know myself well enough to understand it wouldn’t work for me. I’ve never been a particularly jealous person, but I do highly value the deep connection I have with my husband, that sense of ‘you and me against the world’. Exclusivity. Admitting another person into that circle would damage it, of that I’m certain.

As for my husband, he does struggle mightily with jealousy. Polyamory, open marriage, flings — none of that would work for him. He needs to know without a shadow of doubt that he’s my person. And he is.

If you stop and think about it, at its basic level, monogamy is really no more than a social living arrangement recognized, understood, and accepted by society in general. That’s it. I wonder, then, if monogamy isn’t fundamentally more of a choice, a decision, than nature or a calling. We may love someone deeply but that doesn’t mean we’ll never find another person attractive, sexually appealing. Acting on it is another thing.

Every marriage or committed relationship has its own contracts, most unwritten but understood between the parties. And like all contracts, what one arrangement allows, another may not. I recently told my friend that I will never understand his relationship, but the pertinent thing is that the two of them do, and that’s all that matters.

I think lots of things are pretty, but it doesn’t mean I have to have them. I’m not so naive as to think my husband will never look at another woman and think she’s beautiful or sexy. I sure know a lot of women look at him and think that.

We even point it out to each other now and then, and why not? It’s wonderful to know others find you attractive. I like the way other women look at him. Who wants to be with someone no one else finds attractive? And if someone flirts with him, it puts a little spring in his step. The same goes for me.

Perhaps we should accept that fact rather than deny our essential being. To choose someone as a mate, a partner, doesn’t necessarily mean everything else you’ve ever been comes to an end. We may be married, but we aren’t dead, after all. As life evolves, so do we.

But I still choose him, every day. I think the choosing is the cement, is what makes the difference. Knowing you could leave makes it okay to stay. And sometimes people choose not to stay, they’ve come to the end of their rainbow. There are other boxes to check, and I have to respect that.

We all want magic, but magic is a nebulous thing, hard to quantify, especially between two people. All I know for sure is that when I imagine life without him, I feel sad.

We don’t live in a vacuum, a sterile environment. Maybe we need those other people out there on the perimeter in order to be whole, to check every box we need as an individual. I’m his wife, yes, but it’s not all I am. Being my husband is a factor, but not all he is. It’s a fine little dance, to be sure, and one that can be dangerous or have unintended consequences if we’re not careful.

But I think it’s unfair and even unkind to expect our partner to be everything and anything we need, to check every box every day. It’s a horrible burden, for one thing, and an impossible task for another. Assumptions and expectations are the death of relationships.

No matter how much love is involved, there’s never going to be one person who’s everything and anything in our world. But I think we can come close enough. If we’re fortunate, we meet someone who checks the most important boxes; we find that someone who isn’t perfect, but makes it all damn good.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you, always. May you find the damn good.