The Myth of the Perfect Match : Ep1 – A Checklist Folded in Half

When I was younger, I thought love was a kind of reward.
You lived well, you learned patience, you smiled politely at the right moments, and somewhere down the road — you got handed your prize.
The perfect match.

I never said it out loud, of course. That would sound desperate. But inside, I was quietly measuring every conversation, every glance, every joke.
Was he funny enough?
Was he ambitious enough?
Would he know how to read the sadness when it decided to show up without an invitation?

I had a list, somewhere between mental and magical. Not written in ink — more like carved into the back of my eyelids.
Strong, but gentle.
Confident, but kind.
Serious about me, but casual with life.
Romantic, but not cheesy.
Stable, but not boring.

I met people.
I made small talk at crowded parties, laughed at jokes I didn’t really hear, let myself believe that maybe the checklist could flex a little here, stretch a little there.
You can’t build a life out of bullet points, I told myself.
But at night, lying on my back with the ceiling fan carving circles into the dark, I knew I was still measuring.
Still waiting.

And maybe that’s where the first crack appeared — not in the people I met, but in me.
Because the longer I chased the perfect match, the more I started realizing:
I wasn’t sure if I was even the version of myself that could meet him.

I wanted honesty but hid my fears.
I wanted loyalty but left doors half-open behind me.
I wanted depth but offered carefully edited stories.

Maybe I wasn’t looking for a match.
Maybe I was just looking for someone to make it all make sense.

The funny thing is — when the first real one showed up, he didn’t fit the list at all.
And I’ll tell you about him.
But not yet.

First, you need to know what it feels like when a dream starts changing shape in your hands.