“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” – Victor Hugo
I’m pretty annoying at times, actually, very annoying at times. We all are though, no one walks around perfect, we all have our foibles, annoying habits, and sometimes really weird thoughts. Our first real experience with love is with our family, with all their faults, we still love them, we love our pets and they love us in return (even if that cat denies your existence).

As we get older, we experience young love that is irrationally wonderful, we move into those lustful years, and as we meander into adulthood we try to find the one. Sometimes finding the one is pretty hard, and like most people, I had to go through a few to find the one, but now I have found that one love or as she likes to say, “We’re Twin Flames”, but most importantly, we love each other, despite the faults, the imperfections others would reject, and even grow to love the familiarity of those faults.
So, here’s the thing about being human – we’re all a bit of a hot mess. Yep, you heard me right. We’re all a mishmash of quirks, habits, and peculiarities, just bumbling our way through life. But isn’t that part of the charm?
Remember when you were a kid, and you thought your parents were these infallible superheroes? And then you grow up and realize that they’re just people. They’ve got their own quirks and hang-ups, just like the rest of us. But you know what? We love them all the same.
Now, let’s talk about romantic love – the kind of love that makes your heart do somersaults and your stomach flutter like there’s a circus of butterflies in there. It’s easy to love someone when they’re at their best, when they’re all dolled up and smelling like a field of roses. But real love, the kind that Victor Hugo was talking about, that’s about loving someone at their worst.
It’s about loving someone when they’ve got bed head and morning breath, when they’re grumpy because they haven’t had their coffee yet, or when they’re sick and snotty and generally unattractive. It’s about loving someone not in spite of their faults, but because of them. Because those faults are a part of who they are, and you can’t separate the person from their quirks. Love, my friends, is about embracing the perfectly imperfect.
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