To the guy with imperfections,

He was one my classmates as a child. Later, I changed the school and we lost contact. Years later, we happened to meet through social media. And since, both of us were studying the same faculty, our line of interests were common. So, it didn’t take us much long to get along.

He probably had a sharp memory. I was flattered to know that he remembered little things of those days. He remembered that 7 years ago, in school, I used to tie my hair with a white ribbon sewed into a flower, which none of the other girls did (mostly girls tied ribbons into a bow). He remembered that once I had given a speech about ‘Florence Nightingale’ in social studies’ class which even I don’t remember.

I had fallen for him. Many times. I had fallen for his simplicity. I had fallen for how easily he made things comfortable for the other person. I remember once I had a stomach ache. I told him about it and he was concerned. He shyly asked me if I was having my periods. He assumed ‘having a severe stomach ache’ was the secret code for menstruation amongst girls.

He was the perfect guy. Laughed. Joked. He knew politics. He was the guy, your parents would love to meet. The guy you read in books. Generous and caring.

He was a dear friend. I respected him. And may be the love part came along with respect. He maintained discipline in his words and in his actions. It probably ran in his family. His family had a military background. And his strong confidence, his attitude and his balanced nature reflected it all.

But his practicality, once, hit me, hard. Hard enough. This is not me trying to judge someone. I understand how much we are influenced by our society. And that often, we cannot see ourselves as a separate entity from it. Upon having talks on similar subjects, once I asked him, what characters would he want in his future girl? I was surprised to hear him say, “I want a girl who loves me and my parents, the most.” It didn’t take much time to understand his secret code. I know it wouldn’t be untrue to say that, that line would only come from a guy.

He understood things, yet he didn’t have his own principles. He followed rules and laws. Terms and conditions. Rituals and traditions. But then he followed them without questioning. He never asked why? Why it happens? What could change it? He only kept the sheer knowledge of what happens and what has been happening, like an old history book in a library. May be I question too much. My curiosity of the state of mind people are in often makes me restless.

I realize now. The point that I kept trying to find my own principles and that he couldn’t let go of the ones created by someone else must have been the turning point. He did his best to ignore, when I would question the rules he followed. He would often laugh it away. He never had an answer to why nor he ever thought he needed one. This must have been the major point of our incompatibility.

We have been friends through time. We jumped to more than friends and reverted back to just friends. I often remember us. Forgetting him wasn’t as easy as I had imagined. In little fights we had, yes, I would imagine as such. And the last fight we had, sadly, I imagined it beyond my imagination.

He was the perfect guy. May be the time we were in wasn’t the right one. And for sure, my thoughts of the perfect guy wasn’t perfect. Only the imperfections were. The ones I could never appreciate much. The ones I never tried appreciating.

P.S.This is solely based on one person’s perspective on his character building. And he surely has a lot to add to it than this single sided story. As a beginner writer, this is just me trying to present a random character in an interesting way.