The perfect man but not the perfect love

The perfect man but not the perfect love.


He has broad shoulders, flat rippling abs, and a tight butt. Ethan was the picture of perfection. Dark-brown hair that fell short of his well-defined shoulders, And blue eyes that you could get lost in, like the sea. He is in every way perfect, perfect except in feelings. That is the problem. He won’t allow himself to feel, to be carefree.

What is it that I want? As I sit here in the dark, I ponder those words. I keep saying them over and over in my mind. What is it that I want? All I know is that I’m not happy. Why? When I was, a little girl isn’t this what I dreamed of. I have a husband that is rich, powerful, handsome, charming. He knows all the right people, knows all the right things to say to people. We Live in a house, with more rooms than anyone should have. He has everything that a girl would want. So why am I so unhappy? What is it that I want? .. I want a man to need me, To think of me in the middle of the day and smile. To want to hold me in his arms until I grow old and grey, to look into my eyes and know when I’m sad or happy I want a man to love the way I walk, and talk even when I say the wrong things, at the wrong time. I want to be surprised with the little things, things that don’t cost a penny. I want a flower from a field, or a sea shell from the beach. I want to hold hands and watch the sun set. I want to be told that it’s ok that I gained five pounds over Christmas that I’m still loved. I want a friend to talk to.

For as long as I’ve known him, Ethan has always been the perfect man. It is expected of him by his mother and father. Ethan has been working his whole life to be the best. Maybe too perfect, and that the problem. He won’t allow himself to feel pity, or pain. He doesn’t know how to love unrestricted. If he does, he may not portray himself as anything but perfect. That would never do. When we make love he performs like he is on stage. He does everything like a robot. From the time and place, right on to every move of his hand,his movements are over calculated. Like he is planning what he will do before he does it. I want a man to feel what he is doing. When Ethan is in love mode as I call it, he is tense. I know he loves me. He is a very good provider. We don’t argue. If I need something, he gets it for me. I drive a new car. I wear the latest fashions.

To keep me looking good in the fashions, I have a personal trainer that comes to the house six times a week. I have my own personal chef who feeds me wonderful meals he lives in the house. I get language lessons four times a week. I speak five languages fluently now. That way when Ethan brings home clients, I can impress them with my knowledge of languages. I also have a teacher who schools me in current political teachings,philosophy, and fashions, entertainment and dance. I don’t work anymore. I don’t have time. My days are filled with lessons. With three people molding and shaping all aspects of my life. what more can a woman ask for?
Ethan isn't asking for too much is he? After all I only spend six hours a day with lessons, the rest of the day I can do as I choose.

Ethan believes that if I am the perfect woman then that makes him an even more perfect man. That is why he has gone to great lengths to get me teachers of all facets of life to help me which brings me back to Ethan. I love him. We dated for three years before we got married, and have been married for five years. I know how his parents are. I know that they won’t accept anything but the best. I know that Ethan does everything for them. He is successful because he is desperately trying to gain some kind of acceptance from them that I believe they are incapable of giving. I have watched him killing himself at work to please them. If given the chance and acceptance, I think secretly Ethan although outwardly denies it, I think he envies his brother Andrew.

Andrew grew up in the same house with Ethan, but at eighteen, decided that he had enough, and walked away from the family. His parents have disowned him. They forbid Ethan to have any contact with him. His parents would rather have one perfect son than to admit that they have two, and one is not perfect. Rather, sad I think. I have never met Andrew, and the family never talks about him. The only reason I even know that he exists, one night Ethan was drinking and he mentioned him. I remember the night vividly.

It was the night that Ethan got his promotion, and made a senior partner in the financial firm that he works in. We had just left his parents home. Ethan had a few cocktails to celebrate his accomplishments. I decided to drive home. It was getting late and I needed to get home, since I had lessons early the next morning. His parents pleaded with us to stay, but seeing the need for the lessons for an up coming party they bid us fair well and we started the ninety-mile drive back to our house.

Ethan had a few more drinks before we left and was well three-sheet to the wind. He was, as I have never seen him before, he was laughing and telling stories of his childhood, Telling of stories with his grandparents. How he and Andrew use to sneak off and get into trouble with the stable hands. Andrew is five years older than he. He told me how he looked up to him. How much he misses him he told me that his brother was a dreamer. He had ideas of doing nothing, and yet everything, to live his life with nothing more than a thought for just the moment, Never planning ahead. At eighteen, Andrew took the money from his trust, a mere three hundred thousand, and packed a bag and walked out. Later Ethan found out that Andrew had an agreement with his parents about a girl. They felt that she wasn’t up to par. She came from a poor family and it wasn’t good enough for their son. He refused to give her up. He said he loved her and they couldn’t stop him. They argued and in the end Andrew gave up his family for the woman he loved. Ethan to this day has never forgiven him for it. I think he feels like Andrew abandoned him.

He gave up his family for his love. Would Ethan do that for me if I asked him to? After five years of marriage, I have become the perfect wife, I subject myself to the constant criticism of his mother and more often than not I fix whatever she thinks is wrong. If she doesn’t like my hair style, I go to the hair dresser. If she thinks I’m too fat, I would lose a few pounds. I do this for my husband. I do it because I love him and I know what his parent’s approval mean to him. But if I asked him to give it all up, would he? Maybe I should find out. Maybe I should see just how much he loves me, or will he let me go.



Dear Diary.
Tonight is the night of the company party to honor the founding fathers of the firm. Ethan has as always, offered to host it at our house. Which as you know means that I have to get dolled up, paste on a smile, and pretend to be interested in everything that everyone says. Just once I would like to look at some senator or ambassador and tell them that I don’t care. Tell them that they are as dull as it gets, and that they have bad jokes. I would like to walk into the party in sweat pants and a t-shirt. I would like to eat the food with my hands, just because. Ethan will look wonderful as always and will say and do everything perfect. Tonight there will be a ambassador from Italy I’m excited to meet. I have been studying Italian for so long it will be nice to try it out. Well that’s it for now. Good luck to me for making it through another night of pleasantries.


"Karen how nice to see you again", "yes Richard I have been practicing my Itallian." "MR. Knotte I hope your wife is enjoying her experience abroad."
The night went on and on like this. I, as usual am the perfect hostess. I spend just enough time with each person to make them feel welcome, yet not tie up there time. I know what to say and when to shut up and listen. I smile at the right times, and laugh at all the bad jokes. The social examiner says that I give the best parties in town. My mother-in-law seems hell bent on taking all the credit for it. She says that she taught me everything that I know about parties. I don’t care much, it makes it easier for Ethan. With the praise he gets, it makes him less stressed.
Dear Diary,
Another long day, and the party wrapped up just after midnight. Ethan and I were sitting in the ballroom when I asked Ethan, how about our next party be in October, it could be a no work, just for fun masker-aid party. No one has ever had one in town. I think it would be a hit, so close to halloween and all. What do you think? After what seemed to be forever, Ethan said that he thought it would be fun, but he would have to check with mother. what was I thinking? well thats it for now

(phone call)
Yes sir, I was referred to you by my friend Rachael. She said that you found her adoptive parents. Yes sir, I can pay up front. Yes, I know it’ll be expensive. I think that it’ll be worth every penny if you can find the person I want in time for the party. Yes, I can meet you today, it will take me about two hours to drive to you.
As the weeks went by, and Mother approved of the party, I started the wheels in motion of the big surprise that no one would know about, I hired a private investigator to find the long lost brother Andrew. I think that enough time has passed that maybe he has made something of his life. Something that his parents would be proud of. If nothing else he could see how everyone is doing, even if he doesn’t actually talk to them, just to see them one more time. Maybe mingle with them and they wouldn’t know.





CHAPTER 2




“J. E. MARSHALL INVESTIGATIONS”
Well I guess that I am in the right place. It was harder to find than I thought. I guess that I have nothing to loose.. I opened the heavy, glass door to find a small waiting room. It was modestly decorated. A few store bought photos in cheep frames. An old green sofa, a few hard wood chairs and a beat up coffee table with a few books on it. The lighting was dim, the walls had bad wall paper on it. There was a desk directly in front of the door, I’m guessing for the receptionist. Which was empty. There was two doors, one said restroom, the other just said office. Form what I was told this man was the best at what he did, so I expected to find a... better office. Or newer, or something.

“Hello, any one here? Hello, Mr. Marshall? It’s me Mrs. Ahh, it’s Karen. ( I realized that I never told him my last name. ) Mr. Marshall? “
You don’t need to shout miss, I hear ya. “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you. I just didn’t see anyone. Where did you come from? “ I was under the desk fixin’ the leg so it didn’t wobble. “ Oh I see. “ well Mr. Marshall, I’m Karen, I talked to you on the telephone today, about finding a lost relative, I would like you to start immediately and I will pay whatever it takes, if you find him in time I will even give you a bonus.” Well Mrs, What did you say your name is? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.” Its Karen Walters sir. And can you start today?

Mr. Marshall took a moment and then said yes, but first I need to ask you a few standard questions that I ask of everyone. Like: .
Why do you want to find him, who is he in relation to you, what is his name, where is he born, when was he last seen, do you have a photo of him? And stuff like that. Shall we go into my office so I can write down your answers, and find a starting place. The more info that you can give me the better my search will go.

I followed Mr. Marshall into his office, it was like the rest of the place, nothing stood out, kind of plain, in his office, he had a window, a few desks, some books, and a computer.

He moved to sit in his chair. He started to ask questions, and I answered them the best I could, his face was stone, he didn’t smile, or frown, he just kept asking questions.
He was a well built man, about six foot two inches. He had, from what I could tell a well defined body, if I had to guess I would say he worked out. Although the close he wore covered his outline. He had dark wavy hair, slightly past his shoulders, and all one length. He reminds me of, well I’m not sure but he almost looks familiar, I just can place it. He has deep dark blue eyes, a well chisled face, like it was created out of stone.