Perfect

I overheard a group of young people talking the other day. They were in their late teens or early twenties, contemplating going back to college or heading overseas to teach English and travel. As I was reading an article on the other side of a bulletin board that separated us, their conversation turned to a young woman who was not present. "I'm glad my brother didn't meet her," one said, "it would have been all over for him."  Another responded, "Yeah, she was one of my best friends in high school and the guys fell apart over her. My best friend met her for a double-date at LoDos and couldn't talk. He started babbling about how good the water was there. She's super smart, goes to a great school, is a terrific athlete and models. She's basically the perfect person." At this the other young women burst in to reassure the speaker that she was pretty great, herself, but I couldn't forget that comment about the "perfect person."

As I turn that sentence over in my mind I can't escape the corresponding thought that anyone who could say the word 'perfect' in connection with a human being is so young. Too young to know that self-doubt and emotional pain arises in each of us, too young to know that life never fails to deal us all blows, and if the young model in question hasn't had any knocks yet, she certainly will. That realization is nothing to be gleeful about, and I take no satisfaction in the knowledge, but it's true. I wish I could have expressed these sentiments to the young women in the group, that pretty fades, sports end, and a good college does not always equal a worthwhile, family-friendly, high-paying career - but they would not have understood. I could have told the speaker to appreciate all of her own gifts and to relish her own opportunities, that no one needs a crowd of admirers, we just need one good one. There is no such thing as a perfect human being, though we are all perfectly human, with all the flaws, tears, bumps and bruises granted us by life.