Mr. Right

She catches his eye from across the room.  He smiles, and she smiles back.  He's confident, composed.  From talking to him before, she knows he's funny and interesting.  Near perfection.  Full perfection as near as she can tell so far.

A cough and a sniffle from beside her breaks the spell.  She looks up at the man standing next to her, and he gives a weak smile.  "Sorry, baby," he says.

She forces a smile back and hands him a tissue.  It isn't his fault he got sick.  She should be thankful that he was well enough to come to this party, thankful that he knew what a big deal it was.  But somehow, when she looked out across the room, she just couldn't be thankful.

What had happened to them?  She used to love him.  She knew she did.  She just couldn't remember when.  She remembered waiting for a ring, hoping it would come, and now, if she's being really honest, secretly hoping it never will.  She's seen too much, too many flaws, too many inconsistencies, too many little surprises to really love him anymore.  It's too late for them, she finally realizes.  She's just glad she didn't realize it too late.

Later that night while he's in the bathroom, she finds her way to the other man who caught her eye, the man she's noticed has been eyeing her, and she slips him her number.  He looks a bit surprised, but she rushes off before he can say anything.  She hopes he'll take the hint.  And she hopes it will give her the strength she needs to do what needs to be done with the man she used to love.


He calls her two days later.  "I thought you had a boyfriend," he says.

"I did," she says.

That hangs in the air for a moment and then he says.  "So you don't anymore?"

"We're as good as through," she replies.

Silence again and then he says.  "Call me back when you're really through."  Then he hangs up.

Her pulse is racing and her hands are trembling when she makes the next call.  "Can you come over?" she asks.  "We need to talk."


He's gotten better from his cold now.  He was working.  He works a lot.  But when she says she needs to talk, he'll be there.  He'll almost always be there.  Almost.  It's just another almost.

When she tells him, she starts to cry.  He remains calm.  It's almost like he saw these coming.  He gives her hand one final squeeze as she tries to wipe the tears away.  "It's okay," he says after she says she's sorry for the fifth time.  "I wouldn't trade our time for anything, but if it's time to move on, it's time to move on."

For just a moment she had wished he would fight for her.  Come prepared with some grand romantic gesture.  Sweep her off her feet.  But no, all he does is agree with her, tell her she has to do what's best for her.  He probably doesn't even know what's best for her.  That's why he lets her decide.  This is how she knows he's not Mr. Right.


Three days after this, she's going out with the other man.  He's charming, suave.  She wonders for a moment why he isn't attached himself, but decides to just count her luck where she can find it.  He buys her a rose from a wandering vendor.  They go for a walk in the moonlight together.  He kisses her gently under the starts and then tells her goodnight.  It's like a movie.  It's like a movie.  And she never wants to wake up.

And everything is perfect.  For about eight months.  Then she starts to notice them:  his little ticks, the things that aren't quite so romantic, and his bad habit of ignoring her texts.  "Steve always answered my texts," she can't help but think.  Steve wasn't perfect, but she broke up with him, so how could she now be with someone who is worse than Steve?  Luckily, she learned her lesson faster this time.  She breaks up with him telling him the same thing she told Steve.  He doesn't take it as well.  He pleads and begs.  He tells her she's beautiful and that he loves her.  This time, he is crying instead of her.  It was the grand romantic gesture she had secretly hoped for, but now that she's seen it, it isn't romantic at all.  It's just sad.


And she is sad, for a little while.  For a few weeks.  Until one night when she's out at a bar drinking alone, the right man stops by to say hello.  He has a smile that lights up the entire dingy establishment.  She's a bit cautious of that at first, but as they talk, she starts to see a purity and simplicity in him, in his outlook on life, in what he has to say.  And she wants to hear more.  So they arrange to meet for coffee to talk some more.

And coffee leads to dinner and dinner leads to drinks and drinks lead to going back to her place.  She's not sure if he likes her as much as she likes him, but that's okay.  It's usually not even at the start anyway.  She's sure he'll come around.

Four months later, he certainly has.  He tells her that he loves her and she says she loves him, too.  She means it.  She really does.  But not long after that, she starts to get scared again.  She starts to see the flaws.  That bright smile takes way too much effort to maintain.  He worries about how he looks, he's always asking her if he looks okay.  Sometimes, she even notices him glancing at other women, maybe wondering if they think he looks okay.  For all the good things about him, the devotion, the interesting conversations, the intimacy, she just can't get past these flaws.  But she can't ask him, she can't accuse him, she can't make him change.  He just isn't right for her.  And after another three months, she tells him so.

He seems surprised, and he wants to know why.  She doesn't want to say, she tries to dodge it, but he pokes and prods and eventually breaks down and tells him that he cares too much about his appearance.  He tells her he'll change.  That he loves her.  Please let him change.  She decides that's only fair.  After all, she hadn't told him about this before.  So she agrees to give him time.

She gives him three weeks, and things start to get better.  She starts to feel hopeful.  Maybe things really will change.  But as she gets hopeful, she gets complacent, and then she starts to notice that things are changing back.  And another eight weeks later, it isn't her talking to him, it's him telling her that he's sorry he couldn't change.  "It's okay," she says.  "Maybe we should just call it quits."

Not romantic, not perfect, but reality.  They awkwardly shake hands and give a final hug and then he walks away, again.

She finds other men over the next few years, but none of them are perfect.  All of them have their flaws.  None of them is Mr. Right, not for her.  And as she thinks about it more and more, she comes to realize that none of them is ever going to be perfect because no one is perfect, and she isn't perfect either.

She realizes she's been a fool.  If there ever was a Mr. Right, she had him right from the start.  She just didn't realize it.  She didn't know that he was the man for her.  Even when they broke up and he only cared about her, she still didn't realize just how good she had it.  And now that she finally realized it, she just hoped it wasn't too late.


She showed up at his house later that night, heart pounding, hoping that he would still be there.  When the door opened, her heart dropped.  A woman stood before her.  A woman holding a baby.  She smiled pleasantly.  "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Um, does Steve live here?" the non-mother replies.

The young lady with the child nods.  "Yes.  But he didn't tell me he was expecting company."

"He didn't know I was coming.  I'm sorry, I'll just go."

She turns and walks away, but as she's going, she hears a voice behind her.  "Sarah?"

She turns and looks back, tears in her eyes, as she sees him standing there.  She sees the woman place a hand on his shoulder.  She notices the ring on her finger reflecting the light, and then the woman goes back in the house and Steve comes out.

Sarah speaks first.  "Is that your...?"

"My wife, yes."

Sarah looks down.  "When did you meet?"

"About a year after we broke up."  He looks down at her feet and then back at her eyes.  "Would you like to sit down?"

She nods and they sit down next to each other.  After a moment of silence he says, "You know, you were right, Sarah.  We weren't right together.  I didn't know it really until I found Becky, but we, well, we didn't communicate right.  We didn't tell each other what was wrong, and that's not what a good relationship is."

"We could have fixed that," Sarah protested.

He shrugged.  "Maybe," he granted, "but we never even knew we had to.  That was the problem."

There was silence for a moment and then she said quietly, "I wasn't right.  We could have been happy together."

Steve sighs.  "I'm happy with Becky," he says, "and with Daniel."

"Your son?"

Steve nods, but she doesn't see because she's looking down at her feet.

"I'm sorry," she says.

She nearly jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder.  She looks over and sees his eyes.  His beautiful eyes.  She had forgotten how beautiful they were.  "Don't feel sorry for me," he says, and as he says it, she knows she isn't.  She's sorry for herself, because the next thing he says, she's sure he could have said to her if she had just realized how to make things right.  "I'm happy," he says.

Then he stands, and she slowly stands, too.  "I hope you find something or someone to make you happy, too," he says.  He smiles a bit and then he adds, reflectively, "maybe that something or someone needs to be yourself."

As he goes back in the house, wrapping his arm around the loving wife who opens the door for him, Sarah feels a tear fall down her face.  As she closes her eyes, she imagines them in their perfect life together.

No, not perfect.  She opens her eyes.  Nothing is ever perfect.  Thinking it would be was what got her into trouble in the first place.


She stops by a bar for a drink before going back home and a man comes up and says hello.  He offers to buy her a drink, but she declines.  "I've had a rough day," she says.

He nods.  "Well, if you ever feel like talking," he says.  "I'll be around.  I come here every Friday."

She looks up at him and smiles.  She watches as he goes over and talks to another girl and she wonders if he will have better luck with that one.  She finishes her drink and goes home.  She wonders what she really wants, what she really expects.

When she dreams, she dreams of Mr. Right, of a perfect man, unflawed, romantic, working hard but still having time for her, an unachieveable dream that can never be realized.  When she wakes up, she doesn't feel depressed, but instead she feels hopeful.  It was just a dream.  It wasn't real.  And that's empowering.  Knowing the Mr. Right isn't perfect, but just right, she finally realizes she can find a man who makes her happy, but doesn't have to be her everything.

Maybe one day she will find what Steve's wife found.  Maybe someday that can be her.  Or maybe not.  Finding Mr. Right, it might not be right for her at all.  And that's okay.  Life isn't perfect.  Love isn't perfect.  And neither is she.  And realizing all of this, that might be the most perfect thing there is.

The sun shines and she actually smiles as she heads to work that day.  Who knows what that day might bring for her, or for "Mr. Right."