I’ve been falling in love with the same woman my entire life.
She’s had different names over the years. She’s had different faces. There have even been very real differences between her incarnations. But at the core, she’s always been my latest and most mature understanding of “the Ideal Woman.”
The ideal woman doesn’t exist any more than the ideal man exists. I know that. But it’s the best phrase I have for this abstract idea. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but it’s constantly been on my mind for the last week. I need to talk about it. Maybe I’ll have a point. Maybe not.
Think about a product that goes through generations of change over years, but it’s still recognizable as the same product each time. If you compare the first iPhone from 2007 with the current model, it would seem radically different. But if you compared the first iPhone to the second, then the second to the third — and so on, including last year’s model to this year’s — you recognize the same idea and same product. But the latest is radically different from the very first.
If you compared my first Ideal Woman with my most recent, you would see differences, but the core elements — the ideal parts in each of them — are startlingly similar.

Film’s tortured protagonist feels uncomfortably familiar to me
Shame of not being perfect comes with every new thing I try to do
Thugs attacking private property aren’t anarchists; they’re vandals
With bumbling federal response, terrorist attack achieved objectives
New segregation: Why do some people cling to racial politics?
Why are churches only talking about freedom as it relates to abortion?
Freedom of the press is for everyone, not just those recognized by feds
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love
Watching kids on a Friday night reminds me of struggle to belong