A term used more often for imperfect things, perfection is obviously not the same to everyone. The “perfect man”, the “perfect woman”, the “perfect job”…we all know that these things are visualizations of our own fancies. I started to wonder: does perfection even exist? Taking my own senseabilities and desires into account, I’ve come up with two ‘forms’ of perfection – idealistic perfection, and perceptional perception.

At first, the two sound similar, but there is a hardline difference. Idealistic perfection, in this case, centers around what you in your area/culture have grown up to believe is “perfect”. An example most know of is the ‘American Dream/Life’: white picket fence, fully owned home in a suburban neighborhood with two kids (one boy and one girl), two cars and a happy, truthfully honest marriage. It’s the perfection your parents, your family, your friends, and probably no one you ever will know will ever have, and that in itself makes it ‘perfect’. It’s the perfection that cause more pain than pleasure when we – if we – actually obtain it; it’s the perfection that you second guess and third guess, but desire it even more after doing so. Although it does all these things and more, that perfection is one that we all live for, if nothing else – because what else would we know if someone didn’t show us?

If idealistic perfection takes on the beliefs of others, then perceptional perfection embodies what we see for ourselves. Let’s take the “perfect woman” as an example: some men believe that the perfect woman needs to know how to cook but needs help, is a virgin but knows all the right ways to please a man, has a beautiful – ‘beautiful’ being what fits the person’s view on beauty, which is a different subject – body but won’t share it with anyone but them. In short, a fantasy that can’t exist because of the rampant contradictions that gave it life. I’m no exception myself, as my own “perfect” woman has contradicting flaws – I want to meet/date/spend time with a girl that is both bookish but outgoing and athletic, isn’t into fashion but knows how to dress (and undress), is kinda shy but knows when to get in my face and tell me to shut up (being 6′2″, that isn’t easy for most), and can keep up with my aloofness. I’ve met girls/women who possess bits and pieces of that fantasy, but not the whole package, and honestly I don’t know what I would do if I ever did – besides fall head over heels and try to decipher if she were real.