Show me the logic.

You complete me.

How many women swooned when Jerry Maguire said that to what’s her face?  If you don’t know, I’ll tell you.  It was A LOT.  A LOT of women swooned.  But, I know what you really want to know.  You want to know if I swooned.

I did not.  My response to the comment “You complete me”…was…”If I had known you were not a whole person…it’s likely I would not have agreed to go out with you at all.”

Yes, of course I’m being too literal.  Have you met me?  Wait…this is a public blog…maybe you haven’t met me.  But if you HAD met me you’d probably know that I like to be literal.  Sometimes for comedic effect, sometimes to make a point, sometimes just to be obnoxious.  It amuses me to react to the literal meaning of a cheesy line.  It’s funny.

I digress.  Back to Jerry Maguire.  I realize that he meant to tell her that his life didn’t feel complete without her in it.  He meant to express that he felt as if he couldn’t live without her…or at the very least, he didn’t want to.  I can understand this concept.  I am not dense.  Well…I am mostly not dense.

However…I just take issue with the connotation.  You complete me.  I am not whole without you.  I am deficient.  I am incomplete.  I am unfinished.  Really?

I never wanted a man to complete me.  I wanted one to complement me.  Not compliment me…notice the subtle spelling change, I wanted one to complement me.  You know, like a certain wine will go with a certain meal.  Like peanut butter complements jelly.  Like dark chocolate M&M’s complement Reese’s Pieces.  (Trust me on that one.)  What do all of these combinations have in common?  Each of their elements can stand alone and be wonderful.  Then you put them together and they are even better.  Peanut butter does not NEED jelly.  Peanut butter alone is delicious.  Jelly alone is delicious.  Put them together and WOW…extra delicious.  So I’m basically telling you that I am pretty damned delicious all by myself and that I wanted a delicious man in my life who made me extra delicious.  Yeah…that was too literal, let’s move on.

  I just don’t feel like I’m not a whole person.  I don’t feel like I need someone else to make me whole.  And what’s at the top of my line of reasoning?  I went to first grade, people.  Mrs. Clark at Lockney Elementary School taught me that 1+1=2.  TWO.  Not one.

It’s not just Jerry Maguire who gives me issue on this either.  What’s with that whole bible passage that says The Two Shall Become One Flesh…or something to that effect…that they use in marriage ceremonies?  Two cannot become one when referring to two physical beings.  Unless it’s a sci-fi movie and the two things become one awesome thing like Sharktopus.  No, I didn’t watch/like that movie.  But the concept of a sharktopus is no less a wondrous thing to me.

Sharktopus and Pirahnaconda aside…one person…plus another person…equals two people.  Right, Mrs. Clark?  Right, Seven Year Old Lynn.   Yes, I was 7 in first grade – not because I failed kindergarten but because my birthday was late and I had to wait until I was 6 to start school.  That’s a whole other rant, though.

So no matter how pretty the words are or how lovely the sentiment…I am always going to consider myself one, whole person.  Not half a person waiting for my other half or for my other puzzle piece to come along.  While I like a good chick flick as much as the next sappy, hormone filled female…I will never look at my marriage as the day I became complete or a whole person or the day that two became one. 

I am complete…all by myself.  I am not a half person.  I married a complete man.  Not a half man that I needed to complete some how.  I don’t complete anyone.

And I don’t even think Tom Cruise is particularly attractive.