Is there such a thing as a perfect woman or a perfect man? And what does it entail and mean in the end?
In olden days a submissive woman was considered an ideally suitable candidate for being labelled as perfect from a man’s viewpoint. But in reality this amounted to her being a muggins devoid of any solid characteristics that trigger a man’s interest in the long haul.
It is often acknowledged that the pairing of opposites has tumultuous side-effects, but could prove much more rewarding and carnally more satisfying than those diametrically similar.
Most men and women endowed with any creative talent prefer partners who are diabolically inclined to give them a good run for their money, and in the process raise the temperature of their libido to its ultimate summit.
But at the same time their physical banter must in the main be intellectually challenging to ensure its durability.
On the other side of the scale similarity is often a hindrance to compatibility, but both categories are likely to run out of steam if not bolstered by innovation and a hedonistic sense of adventure.
However, contrariety can rekindle a semi-dormant passion and bring it to the boil when all hope is lost.
Perfection often carries with it an infernal state of boredom, which can render life intolerably hard to come to terms with. The stimulation is then shattered and one is faced with an early death – if not in bodily terms then in spirit.
Where does the word ‘perfection’ fit in our vocabulary? It simply does not lie there comfortably since its copyright appertains to the outer regions of the undefinable covered by a cumulus of the unknown.
It’s therefore meaningless on earth, as it represents a state of mind which is incapable of being achieved. Nothing tangible or remotely foreseen can acquire perfection. And when it is erroneously claimed trouble ensues.
No race is perfect, neither is any nation nor individual.
As such, the word is superfluous in a terrestrial context. The nearest we come to perfection is when we admit that it is beyond our reach and comprehension. We then tend to lull ourselves into believing that only through comparison can we achieve a measure of the unattainable.
And that’s when the struggle for perfection no longer matters, and our lives take their allotted course – always bearing in mind that as soon as we are born we begin to die.