Perfection vs. Imperfection- Does love know these bounds?

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130) by William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

Alright, I admit it. I totally got lucky with this one. I was going to do Shakespeare anyway, since we are doing one of his plays in Drama. (DEAR AMANDA AND BEYOND-SPOILER ALERT*. Then I was watching My So-Called Life, and this sonnet just sort of shoved itself in my face, since it was featured on the show as the turning point for Jordan Catalano (the protagonists love interest)- to realize he did want to be with Angela. *Girly squeal*. (*SPOILER ALERT OVER*) So yes, they read this poem in English class on the show and I was watching it, and was like, "Hey, I should write about this for my blog post."

In nearly every book you read, the protagonists love interest is talked about or described in a way that makes them seem absolutely perfect. I suppose that is not unlike real life- when you're in love, you look at the person as if they were the most beautiful, perfect, incredible person in the world, for some period of time.

I noticed, firstly, how every line is a comparison between a dream girl and his own love. There are comparisons of her hair, her scent, her lips, and the way she speaks. He seems to take cliches of the perfect girl (snow white skin, rosy cheeks, eyes like the sun, etc), and he compares his own mistress to this, usually with a bit of a dismissive tone. Not like, "My girlfriend sucks because she's not blonde and her breath reeks," but more of a simple, matter-of-fact tone, like saying, "This is the way a dream girl is supposed to be, but my mistress isn't like that. He also seems to be honest with himself in some ways, especially, "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know; That music hath a far more pleasing sound." He seems to be grasping reality with sentences like these. As if he's telling himself, "C'mon, man. I mean, I love to hear her speak, but there are things that sound-better. Like music."

Honestly, this isn't a very dreamy-lovey-dovey like poem. In fact, he seems to be comparing his mistress with the cliche perfect woman and accepting how his lover doesn't have all of these qualities. But he still loves her. He is not trying to tell himself she's perfect, because he knows she isn't. The last line, "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare; As any she belied with false compare,"-Basically reveals all you need to know about the poem. Here, he's saying, the woman I'm trying to compare her too is as rare as my love for her. I know it's cheesy, but that's his conclusion. He says to himself that his love is just as powerful and heart stopping as being with this perfect woman he is comparing his mistress too.

I think that even when a person is in love, as well as pursuing your feelings and blah blah blah, it's important to keep a realistic eye. Although you may be telling yourself that you are waiting for a certain type of person, and you don't want to be with anyone else until you find that person, your potential love is not always that person. A person that you'd be perfectly happy with, and possibly even be in love with, is right in front of you, no matter how imperfect they may seem. Oh dear, did I just write a cheesy teenage-girl-esque interpretation of love? *Mental Slap*