Why “Mr. Perfect” Might Not Be Your Mr. Perfect And That’s Okay

Recently I started talking to this guy, again. Obviously, I wasn’t feeling something the first time we were talking or else we wouldn’t have stopped. The mistake I made, was telling my friends. I told them all about him, the lowdown on the guy is that he is a total sweetheart who wants forever with somebody (ugh).

Now me on the other hand I’m moody, I love being alone, and I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I’m in my early twenties, I have the rest of my life to be tied-down.

My friends don’t understand this. They’re all either in long-term relationships or wanting a long-term relationship. I’ve been called “stupid” more in the last month than I have my entire life. But if the roles were switched and he was the one who didn’t want the commitment, would his friends keep calling him stupid?

Probably not. But let me not get into that right now.

To my friends he is Mr. Perfect because he says all the right things, he has a good job, and he wants a girl to spoil (the girl being me, in case you missed that part).

Their Mr. Perfect and my Mr. Perfect are two very different things.

He wants to send very long text messages about our future for me to read when I wake up. The only future I’m thinking about is what I’m having for dinner and how much Netflix I can binge watch this weekend while procrastinating on my homework.

He wants to try to explain the female gender to me. Newsflash I am the female gender, you can’t explain the female gender, because nobody, including us, understands the female gender.

He wants to hang out, a lot and tries to make me feel bad when I’m busy. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I promise if I see you more than once a week you will be on my nerves. And I have fictional characters’ fates that are way more important.

He wants to open every door for me, then pout when I get there first. I really do appreciate the effort, but I’m a fast walker. So either walk faster and get there first, or stop sticking your bottom lip out. Your pouting isn’t very becoming. I might not want a relationship, but I don’t want to spend my time with a boy (that was high school and I don’t remember wishing to replay that time of my life). Especially since I like to think of myself as an independent woman.

Maybe it was the ten text messages I received within three minutes that were exactly the same. Or maybe it was his hovering. I know it definitely had to do with the paragraphs I’d receive giving me an answer when I didn’t even ask a question. Is there a reason you explain everything to me? I’m not incompetent.

Possibly in five years, I’ll look back on “Mr. Perfect” and wish I had listened to my friends. The chances of that happening are very slim, though.

I’m sure he is Mr. Perfect. I’m just certain he’s not my Mr. Perfect.