I don’t want to look for perfection anymore, I want dysfunctional. Perfect is a model I can barely have a convo with because she’s always taking off somewhere to take a picture. Or someone who focused on keeping it together on a the outside that they let everything die on the inside. I want dysfunctional. I want to hear her laughing at me when I can’t fix the sink or change a dirty diaper quick enough. I want us to have those favorite outfits we always pick out for each other. Or the outfits we hate on each other. I want heated arguments that turn into an hour of silence and the “I’m sorry” forehead kisses. I want sweatpants, movies and back rubs when every one in the house is sick. I want us cheating on our diets with Mexican food every Tuesday . When I get nervous on airplanes flying to the vacation I took too long to plan I want her holding my hand. When she freaks out and I tell her to relax I want her to throw a fit. I want her looking at me across the room during the holiday gatherings and mouthing “I love you” while I’m devoting the food tray. I don’t care if people understand what we got because it’s not for them, it’s for us. And that’s what people forget, as long as we’re healthy, learning, growing and sharing what’s good with each other then who are they to judge? Because I’ve planted seeds in my life and when they grow to something great, I want her to be the one I want to share them with. The world’s version of perfection doesn’t exist, it’s a sales pitch to keep you from feeling that self fulfillment we deserve. It makes no sense to chase perfection anymore because every one of us have always had perfection in our lives, it just doesn’t come in the packaging we expect.