My Perfect Girl
By the time we were in high school my buddies all had girl friends. Some of them were pretty; some were bright; some were good sports. But, though I envied the imperfect happiness these girls had brought my friends, I held out for something more. I wanted a girl who embodied all those virtues. I had read the poetry and heard the popular songs assuring me that my perfect girl was out there somewhere, and I knew that sooner or later I would meet her. And so I went to the prom alone.
In college, while my buddies went out on dates and to fraternity dances, I stayed in my room and studied, saving myself for my perfect girl. But all the while I kept my eyes open. On the quadrangle and in the classrooms I scanned each feminine face, searching for the signs that I was sure I would recognize.
I graduated with honors.
I found meaningful and well paid employment in the field of my choice, and I earned regular promotions. I saved my money and invested well. I made sure I would be able to support her in the manner she would deserve--when I finally found her.
One by one my friends married and started families. Some lived happily ever after; some suffered. Some took mistresses; some divorced; some ran. But, through it all, my faith sustained me. I remained single and continued to search.
And--because I wanted it so much--because I believed so profoundly--finally, one glorious summer day, I found her.
She was brilliant; she was beautiful; she was warm and considerate. She was all things I had ever wanted in a woman--everything the popular music and the poetry had promised me; and I fell immediately and irretrievably in love. For the first time in my life I gave my heart to a lady.
She thanked me for my generous offer, and told me no thanks. She explained that she was waiting for her perfect man, who would surely someday come along.