It was Sophia’s birthday on Saturday, and we went to LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art). We had a great day together.
“Are you two getting back together?” a friend texted me.
“No,” I answered. “Just a fun day out for her birthday.”
“You just seem so perfect together.”
“Perfect?! Ha. We are far from it.”
Sophia and I love each other, but the perfect couple we’re not. We never were.
We tried our best, but we both want something more from a partner, a love that boils over and makes us want to shout it out to the world. Something a little bit closer to the perfection of a Perfect Couple.
Does this Perfect Couple exist? Or is it an illusion, the relationship equivalent of the bikini model drinking a Coke?
But then, on Saturday evening, as we left the museum, Sophia and I encountered them. It was the Perfect Couple, right on Wilshire Blvd in Los Angeles.
If God was a chef, this couple would be his signature dish. They would be spiced with respect, love, and passion, and as they marinated in His blessings, happiness and joy would waft through His kitchen, out the window, and throughout the world.
And they were standing right in front of us.
“Take an instagram photo!” said Sophia, as we both stared, confronted with our own inadequacies.
After taking a few photos of the Perfect Couple on Wilshire Blvd., we discovered that we had stumbled into someone else’s photo shoot, and this couple were models.
But the Perfect Couple is a standard that is hard to let go, even if it is a fantasy.