Man, relationships. Always thought I had it all figured out, you know? Like I could just list out the perfect traits and boom, there she’d be. A lot of people, especially my buddies, would always joke about me being a “Virgo man” – always dissecting everything, always looking for that perfect fit, never quite satisfied. And yeah, I guess they weren’t wrong. For years, finding a partner felt like trying to solve some super complicated puzzle where half the pieces were missing, and the other half didn’t even belong to the same box.
I started out like anyone, I guess. In my early twenties, I just went with the flow, dated whoever seemed nice enough. But then, after a few relationships crumbled – usually because I’d pick apart every little thing they did or said until it became a mountain – I really started to think about what I was doing. I got this idea in my head, this blueprint of what an “ideal match” had to be. She needed to be tidy, organized, punctual, practical, witty but not too loud, adventurous but also a homebody. You get the drift. It was a long, ridiculous list, written out in my head, and I kept every single potential date up against it.
The Grind of Dating and the Endless Checklist
So, I dove into the dating scene with that list basically tattooed on my brain. First, I tried the usual bar scene. Total bust. Too much noise, too much superficial talk. I’d try to have a serious conversation, and people just wanted to laugh and drink. I’d watch them, trying to see if they’d stack up against my mental checklist, and honestly, they rarely did. I’d walk away feeling more frustrated than when I went in.
- I tried online dating, which everyone said was the way to go. Set up my profile, put some decent pictures up. Spent hours crafting messages, trying to sound interesting and smart, but also not too intense.
- I remember one time, I matched with a woman who seemed promising. Her profile mentioned she loved hiking and reading – two big checks on my list. We chatted for a bit, and I went in, meticulously planned our first coffee date. I showed up fifteen minutes early, picked out a quiet corner. She was ten minutes late. Ten minutes! And while she apologized, it just… gnawed at me.
- Another time, I thought I’d found someone who was nearly perfect on paper. We went to dinner, and everything was going great until she ordered her steak well-done. Well-done! I know it sounds stupid, but it just felt so… unrefined. It clashed with this image I had built up. I couldn’t shake it, and the relationship, if you can even call it that, fizzled out after two more awkward dates.
I was so focused on finding someone who ticked all the boxes that I wasn’t actually connecting with anyone. My friends would listen to my dating disaster stories and just shake their heads. “Dude, you’re too much in your head,” they’d say. “Just chill out.” But I couldn’t. It felt like a fundamental part of me, this need for order and precision, even in love.
The Unexpected Shift
This went on for a few years, a real merry-go-round of dates that went nowhere. I was getting tired, honestly. My morale was hitting rock bottom. I remember one particular evening, after yet another “not quite right” date, I was just sitting on my couch, staring at the ceiling. The list, the blueprint, it suddenly felt less like a guide and more like a cage. I realized I was so busy judging everyone against my impossible standards that I wasn’t even letting myself feel anything. I was looking for perfection, and perfection simply doesn’t exist in human beings.
It was a weird moment of clarity. It wasn’t about finding someone who fit my ideal; it was about finding someone who felt right, despite the imperfections. It sounds obvious now, but for me, someone who processes everything logically, it was a huge breakthrough. I decided, right then and there, to ditch the list. Not literally, of course, but emotionally. I vowed to just meet people, be open, and see what happened.
Finding My Actual Match
A few months after that internal shift, things started to change. I wasn’t actively looking, I just let go of the pressure. I was just living my life. I picked up a new hobby – photography – and joined a local club. That’s where I met Sarah. Our first interaction wasn’t some big, dramatic meet-cute. We were both struggling to set up our tripods during an outdoor shoot, laughing at our own clumsiness. She was, ironically, not on time for that meeting either – she walked in a few minutes late, flustered but smiling. And you know what? It didn’t bother me one bit.
She wasn’t on my old list. She’s a bit messy sometimes, her schedule is, shall we say, “flexible,” and she actually likes her steak medium-rare, which at one point would’ve been a red flag for me. But she’s also incredibly kind, always makes me laugh, and she genuinely appreciates my organized, analytical brain – she says it balances her out. We spent weeks just talking, really talking, about everything. I found myself actually enjoying the conversations, not just evaluating them. We started going for walks, grabbing coffee, just hanging out without any grand expectations. I realized I wasn’t looking for flaws; I was just… enjoying her company. And she enjoyed mine, quirky Virgo tendencies and all.
It turned out that my “ideal match” wasn’t a collection of traits. It was a person who made me feel comfortable being myself, who didn’t necessarily check all the boxes but somehow made all the irrelevant boxes disappear. It wasn’t about finding someone perfect; it was about finding someone who was perfect for me, in all our messy, imperfect ways.
