Love isn't about finding a perfect person
It's about this, instead
Most of us have been there. We meet someone, and some invisible thread pulls us toward them.
It’s not just attraction—it’s how they carry themselves, the way they see the world, how they make us feel.
We begin to fall for them. (And let’s not forget friendships—there’s a similar kind of connection, a falling in love with someone’s essence.)
Then, weeks or months down the line, something shifts. The person we placed on an imaginary pedestal begins to reveal their humanness. Maybe they react to something differently than we expected. They might have an opinion that we inherently disagree with. Perhaps they disappoint us in a way we didn’t see coming.
This is the point where many people leave relationships. They see something they don’t like, and instead of recognizing it as just one part of a person, they automatically conclude: This isn’t for me. I need to find someone who fits me better.
(P.S. I’m not suggesting we dismiss the big red flags such as emotional manipulation or any type of abusive behavior. I’m referring to someone not fitting the exact blueprint of what we have in mind or how we see the world.)
Relationship expectations are tricky. They can guide us toward what we want, but they can also set us up for disappointment. It’s one thing to know our standards, our values, and what aligns with us. But it’s another to hold onto a rigid idea of who someone should be, rather than allowing them to show us who they are. When we expect an idealized version of someone, we set ourselves up for inevitable disillusionment.
In my late twenties, I met a man with whom I had a short romance. We had been friends for a year prior to dating. Though we had been getting to know one another for some time, he didn’t know my intricacies. He made a lot of assumptions about who I was and what I’d be like in a relationship. In essence, he put me on a pedestal.
Within our first two dates, he ran through a laundry list of questions, trying to figure out if I’d be his dream mate.
He concluded that I was his soul mate. Following that initial questionnaire, I was described as his dream woman for a few weeks. I had all the qualities and characteristics he was looking for in a partner.
After a handful of weeks of dating, he abruptly ended things. He said though I had the majority of qualities on his check-list, he still didn’t feel we were the right fit romantically. A mutual friend later explained that even though “I was great, I just didn’t fit his blueprint.”
This isn’t just my story. This is a modern story. We see it everywhere—on dating apps, in relationships, in cinema.
In the movie Her, the main character, Theodore, played by Joaquin Phoenix, falls in love with an artificial intelligence—an entity that exists only in his mind, shaped by his deepest desires. She’s an idea of a perfect partner, one that never challenges him, never disagrees, and never introduces the complexity that genuine relationships demand. The initial relationship portrayed with AI is simple and it’s built on an illusion. In the beginning, their relationship is fulfilling because the AI mirrors the main character’s emotions and provides companionship without real conflict. She eventually grows in intelligence and develops her own independent thoughts, desires, and relationships. At this point, Theodore’s emotions start to shift.
Many people dive into relationships with this type of illusion.
Psychologists call this limerence—the infatuation stage where we idealize someone, projecting onto them the qualities we crave or expect, rather than seeing them for who they truly are.
Limerence is why dating apps have fueled a perfection-seeking culture in relationships. Studies show that with the abundance of choice, people are now more likely to keep searching for the ideal partner rather than investing in a real, imperfect one.
I’ve had other people fall in love with the idea of me. They loved my online profile or how I made them feel in our first few interactions. I fit into the narrative they had written in their heads. But when we stepped into an actual relationship—into the everyday moments where nuances – and my humanness – showed up—some of them didn’t like those aspects. The relationships ended, along with an idealized image of me.
I’ve also been on the other side of things, where I didn’t allow a connection to begin, because of my idea of someone. I once met a man whose passion was surfing. After a few dates, I concluded that we wouldn’t be a good fit, as I didn’t want all vacations until the rest of my days to center around surfing. In retrospect, I know that relationships are not built on these types of vain qualities, and if our connection would have transcended these initial preferences, perhaps there could have been a beautiful love story.
True connection (and love!) is about holding space for who someone truly is. It’s not about finding someone who checks every box. It’s about getting curious and learning more about the human in front of us. It’s about the reality of who they are, flaws and all, and deciding if we can meet them there.
When I first met my now-partner, we had a deep, meaningful conversation and connected on so many levels. Soon after, I started talking myself out of our connection—convincing myself that he wasn’t the one. He didn’t fit the image I had in my mind of the person I thought I’d end up with, so I tried to put him in the friend zone instead.
He was patient with me, encouraging us to simply get to know each other and see where it led. Instead of resisting because he didn’t match the perfect image I had in my mind, I chose to stay open.
In that openness, something real began to grow— something rooted in curiosity, shared values, and the willingness to truly see each other as we were, versus what we thought the other person should or shouldn’t be. We allowed each other the space to show up fully, and in doing so, we fell in love with the real human version of each other. Not the perfect, fine-tuned, idealized ones.
(Side note: Our relationship hasn’t been perfect (none are!) We’ve had plenty of messy moments—times when one of us wasn’t feeling our best and openly displayed it; when we handled a situation in a way that didn’t feel as empathetic as we would have liked; when our childlike behavior came out, versus our higher self. Through this, we’ve learned the difference between loving an idea of someone and truly loving who they are.)
In conscious, evolved relationships, we give people chances. We look at them with curiosity. We release our expectations. We keep our hearts open to understand. And we empathize with the other’s humanness – just as we’d want them to empathize with our own.
The next time you find yourself pulling away from someone just because they don’t fit the perfect blueprint in your head, ask yourself:
Can I give myself more time to get to know this person?
Can I get more curious about them? Or am I stuck in the idea of who they are?
Are there expectations I’m ready to let go of?
Real relationships aren’t built on fantasies, they’re built on truth. They’re about embracing the messy, imperfect, deeply human reality of another person and choosing them, even after the illusion fades.
This is really really well done.