Perfection is boring.
In fact, it’s a bit of luck that utter perfection could never possibly exist otherwise we’d have no reason to keep looking. To strive until we find what is, in our own mind, unimprovable (Ed’s Note – we’ll make that word work here).
Think about falling in love. You see a girl or boy you like, you talk, you enjoy the responses and the reactions. Love comes quickly, but not necessarily immediately. You’re bound to spend a lot of time looking at his or her face, his or her hair, and his or her body. And then you start to notice things. A line in the bridge of his/her nose, perhaps. A scar, a tattoo, something, anything that your eye is drawn to. Usually an imperfection. An imperfection that you can’t stop looking at, that draws you in and eventually bewitches you, rendering you incapable of thinking about anything except him/her and him/her special, unique, maybe unexpected features.
Such is what I found when I flirted with the Datsun 240Z.
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