After my first marriage ended, I longed to fall in love again and begin a new chapter. I wanted to show my daughters, who adored fairy-tale romances, that lasting love was real—that their dreams of romance could come true. That mine could too (Carter C., 2018).

Carter continues to say, “part of the reason I wanted to marry Mark (my second husband) was that I didn’t want to raise my kids alone. Having an adult to talk to at the end of the day made life more enjoyable. On a deeper level—though I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time—I also married him in an attempt to hold onto the intoxicating feeling of being adored that defines the early stages of most relationships.” A wedding and honeymoon seemed like the ultimate symbols of romance, and marriage felt like a way to make our relationship permanent. 

But this was flawed thinking. The feelings she longed to preserve weren’t inherently tied to the institution of marriage. As Alain de Botton insightfully points out, we often expect marriage to “make nice feelings permanent.” In reality, marriage tends to shift us into a more practical, routine-driven phase of life—one filled with responsibilities, long commutes, and demanding children who, ironically, drain the passion that brought them into existence. The only constant is the partner, and perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to try to preserve.

Do you ever feel a nagging doubt that you didn’t marry “the one”? Maybe your sex life isn’t always passionate, spontaneous, or frequent. Perhaps your spouse’s once-adoring gaze seems to have dimmed. Do you sometimes find yourselves reacting with defensiveness or even contempt to each other’s well-intentioned advice? If so, you might think you married the wrong person. 

And that’s okay. Here’s what I’ve only recently come to understand: We all do. Or, more accurately, we marry for reasons that don’t necessarily hold up over time. 

As the insightful Alain de Botton points out, we shouldn’t abandon our imperfect spouses just because marriage doesn’t match our childhood fantasies. Instead, we need to let go of the deeply ingrained Western notion that a perfect partner exists—someone who will fulfill all our needs and desires effortlessly. 

Letting go of this ideal isn’t easy for me. For years, it has shaped my hopes and dreams. Ever since middle school, when Modern English had me fantasizing about a love that could “stop the world and melt with me,” I’ve been waiting for that kind of romance—despite having no real proof that it exists. 

It’s not that I haven’t been in love; I have. I love my husband now. But every time I wish he were different—every time I long for him to say, do, or be something he’s not—it feels as though I’m holding out for someone else. As if Prince Charming is still just out of reach, if only… 

This disconnect between expectation and reality fuels so much disappointment in life. We humans are brilliant at imagining ideal scenarios, but when reality doesn’t align with those dreams, it’s easy to feel let down. The truth is less glamorous: No knight in shining armor is coming to rescue me from loneliness, anxiety, or self-doubt. That forces a tough question: Can I focus on what I do have instead of lamenting what I don’t? Can I release my attachment to a cultural myth that, at its core, is just a fairy tale? 

Honestly, I don’t really want to let go of my romantic fantasies—I enjoy them. They’re like the promise of an unforgettable trip or an incredible meal. And every now and then, I do get a taste of that magic.

Choosing imperfection

We need to understand that no real person can ever live up to the idealized fantasy of a soulmate. My husband may be imperfect—and even imperfect for me—but I am just as flawed and, in that sense, imperfect for him as well. In a way, that makes us perfectly matched. 

Looking back, I see that I’ve been asking the wrong question all along. Wondering *“Are you the right person for me? only leads to doubt, frustration, and unnecessary suffering. 

Trying to assess whether someone is the perfect match is a flawed pursuit because nothing external—no achievement, no possession, and certainly no person—can heal our wounds or provide the deep, lasting joy we seek. 

A far more meaningful—and genuinely romantic—question is: *Am I the right person for you?

A more productive and fulfilling approach is to ask: 

Can I accept your flaws with humor and grace? 

Can I let go of the expectation that you should read my mind and magically make everything better? 

Can I navigate our conflicts with love and wisdom—without being consumed by fear or emotion? 

Am I willing to do the self-reflection that marriage requires? Can I cultivate the self-awareness needed to keep from pushing you away? 

Most importantly, do I have the courage to keep loving you, not just despite your imperfections, but despite my own? 

Struggling in your marriage? At Giving Hope Counselling Services, we understand that love isn’t about finding a perfect partner—it’s about learning to grow together, embrace imperfections, and navigate challenges with wisdom and grace. Just like Carter C. describes, many couples face disillusionment when reality doesn’t match their romantic expectations. Our expert counselors will guide you through these struggles, helping you shift your focus from “Is my partner right for me?” to “Am I the right partner for them?” With compassionate support, we’ll help you rebuild connection, improve communication, and rediscover the love that brought you together. Because true love isn’t about perfection—it’s about choosing each other, every single day.

To book a counselling session call/WhatsApp us at +254721240462 or +254722932470 or email us at info@givinghope.co.ke .Also visit the blog on our website www.givinghope.co.ke for more articles on the welfare of marriages and families.

References

Botton A., (2017).  Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person.  School of Life Press.

 

Carter C., (2010). Raising Happiness: 10 Simple Steps for More Joyful Kids and Happier Parents. Random House