A woman was telling me about what kind of husband she was looking for. Her list was lengthy and specific. It reminded me of Benedick's monologue about the ideal wife in Much Ado About Nothing.
"Rich, she shall be, that's certain. Wise or I'll none. Virtuous or I'll never cheapen her. Fair or I'll not look on her. Mild or come not near me. Of good discourse, an excellent musician. And her hair shall be.... what color it please God."
Well, at least God has some wiggle room.
One of the flaws in the idea of a check list, is that it rests squarely in the assumption that we are fully evolved at a marriageable age. Which in my experience has not been the case. People grow, make mistakes, grovel, brush off their knees, find a better way. Which is the salvation of us all. Some who are careless with financial decisions out of high school can become responsible by middle age. Others who are prone to anger in their youth soften in later years.
John and I had such lists. I cringe to remember. He did not score well on one of my top items.
"Must listen well."
Neither did I earn points with his criterion since I was majoring in psychology, which he had minimal respect for.
Which suggests to me that first blush is not always an accurate predictor of the future. John at twenty four is not a carbon copy of the man I live with now. And I speak not of the color of his hair, nor the amount. He has come to value listening skills enough that he pushed for a Stephen Ministry program, and has come to appreciate psychology's contribution to his job. I have changed too, or at least I desperately hope I have.
But there is something even more insidious in that resume thinking. The speaker's premise is that he or she is already perfect. The only question worth answering is who is up to their standards.
