Learning to give up on perfection may be just about the most

“Learning to give up on perfection may be just about the most romantic move any of us could make,” spoke Alain de Botton, a modern philosopher of love and imperfection. In these words lies a profound tenderness — a wisdom born not from idealism, but from compassion. For he reminds us that the heart’s truest act is not in seeking the flawless, but in embracing the imperfect, both in ourselves and in those we love. The ancient sages would have called this a teaching of mercy — the art of seeing the beauty in the cracks of the human soul, of finding divinity not in what is without flaw, but in what still strives to grow despite its flaws.

To give up on perfection is not to surrender to mediocrity; it is to awaken from illusion. It is to realize that love — of another, of life, of oneself — can only thrive when freed from the tyranny of expectation. In his works, Alain de Botton has long spoken of love not as a fairytale, but as a discipline of understanding, where we learn to live with imperfection gently and with grace. His words echo an ancient truth: that the pursuit of perfection often blinds us to the beauty that already exists before us. The one who demands flawlessness in others finds only disappointment; the one who accepts imperfection finds connection, empathy, and peace.

The ancients knew this truth well. The Japanese art of kintsugi — the mending of broken pottery with gold — teaches that what is cracked can become more beautiful for having been broken. The scars do not detract; they illuminate. So too in love and in life. To give up on perfection is to honor the gold in our own fractures and in those of others. The philosopher’s words, then, are not merely about romance between lovers, but about a larger romance with existence itself — a willingness to cherish life as it is, in its messy, unpredictable, and profoundly human state.

Consider the life of Leonard Cohen, the poet and musician who sang of longing and brokenness. His voice was gravelly, his songs imperfect, yet through that imperfection he touched millions. He once wrote, “There is a crack in everything — that’s how the light gets in.” This, too, is what de Botton means. The light of love, of wisdom, of healing, does not enter through the polished surfaces of perfection, but through the cracks of vulnerability. To love the imperfect is to love truthfully, without masks or fear. It is, in its deepest sense, romantic, because it joins the soul to the real — the only place where love can truly live.

To learn to give up perfection is also an act of humility. The proud demand perfection because they wish to be untouched by weakness, yet it is in weakness that we find our shared humanity. The ancients taught that the gods, though mighty, envied mortals for their capacity to err, to weep, and to love through pain. Perfection is sterile; imperfection gives life. When we accept this, we can finally see others — and ourselves — as living, changing beings rather than ideals to be measured. It is then that love transforms from possession into compassion, from desire into devotion.

Yet this lesson requires learning, as de Botton reminds us. It is not instinctive to accept imperfection; it must be practiced. We are trained by culture to chase the flawless — the perfect career, the perfect body, the perfect partner. But each of these pursuits leads to restlessness, for perfection is an illusion without end. The wise learn to release this pursuit. They replace judgment with curiosity, and control with appreciation. They discover joy not in the perfection of the moment, but in its authenticity. The most romantic move, then, is not to demand perfection from life, but to fall in love with its imperfections — to see that the incomplete, the flawed, and the fleeting are what make existence precious.

In this, there lies a call to action: to forgive more, to expect less, and to love more deeply. Look upon the faces around you and see not their errors, but their effort. Look upon your own heart and honor it for how it continues to beat despite the scars it carries. Let your relationships, your art, your ambitions breathe freely, unburdened by the impossible. For every time you forgive imperfection, you choose love over fear, growth over pride, life over illusion.

So remember, O seeker of truth: perfection is not the goal of love — compassion is. As Alain de Botton teaches, the most romantic act is not to find the flawless, but to cherish the flawed with open eyes and an open heart. To give up perfection is to return to reality, and in that reality lies all tenderness, all beauty, all meaning. For in the end, the broken cup still holds water, and the imperfect soul still holds love — and that, truly, is enough to make life divine.