Why Other Couples’ Perfection Can Feel So Unsettling

Shmuel and Rinat are the “perfect” couple.

I didn’t meet them in a counseling setting at all. They are family. Distant, thankfully, but unfortunately still family.

No, they are not bad people, heaven forbid. Still, I prefer not to be closely connected with them.

Why? You’re probably asking.

That’s the thing. I don’t really know. They seem nice enough, look good, speak politely. They have money. They are, by all accounts, good people.

And yet, something about them feels wrong at the root.

Actually, I think I do know why.

They are not authentic. Everything about them is “kind of.” The children are kind of well mannered. The father is kind of smart and important, a senior figure in high tech. The mother is a successful interior designer. Everything is kind of, artificial, polished, and somehow unpleasant.

Perfection does not exist. And they are constantly trying to perform it. Why are they always smiling? Why do I only ever see them doing well, when they never share what is really happening in their lives?

That is the point.

They have become unofficial family and community psychologists, offering technical help and emotional advice to anyone who asks. They are like living signs that say, “We’ve got it all figured out.” Everything is within their reach.

There is nothing Shmuel does not know. Mention astrology, and he will explain why NASA’s studies are ineffective and how he could upgrade an entire research and development department several times over.

So you might ask, why does it bother me? What do I care if they see themselves as perfect? Why does it touch such a sensitive place in me?

Because they are condescending.

The One Who Always Knows

Talk to them yourself. Within a minute, you will find yourself spilling all your troubles and, of course, receiving generous free advice. And them? They never share anything in return. That is arrogance. Where is the principle of reciprocity in their relationships with the world?

Or maybe they really have no problems. Maybe there are rare, perfect creatures walking among us.

There are none.

None.

Until one evening, at a family celebration, I stepped outside the hall to take a phone call. That is when I “caught” them.

Shmuel was yelling at Rinat. Not just yelling, shouting. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he humiliated her, erased her presence. I did not hear what sparked it, but Rinat was clearly crying. She tried to push back, saying something like, “You’re always like this…”

To my shame, my first reaction was satisfaction. Finally, their façade cracked. Finally, I saw them exposed. Here they were, fighting. Their performance was over.

Later, I felt pity for Rinat. Surely she is controlled by Shmuel, I thought. He probably does not allow her to consult anyone. He is domineering, possessive.

Then I felt sorry for Shmuel as well. Maybe he lives under unbearable pressure. Maybe he inherited this pattern from his parents or from somewhere else. Maybe he has no real friend to share his struggles with. Perhaps even with his wife, he must pretend that he never breaks and that everything is fine. Poor man.

And then, I felt sorry for myself.

What This Says About Me

Why do I need to see the flaws of others in order to reassure myself that everything is fine with me? Why should their imperfections matter at all if their lives truly are good?

When people come to us and reveal their less than perfect sides, asking for acceptance, we usually respond with empathy, love, and calm.

But what if they ask without words?

What if friends or family silently say, “We are deeply fragile. We need you to see us as perfect and to give us that admiration for a long time. Why? Just because. Because we believe that is what we need.”

Are we willing to give them that?

And if we are, it is worth asking ourselves why.

Do you see how tangled I became trying to define what truly bothers me?

This remains an unresolved inner struggle for me. But it clearly exposes something incomplete within me, a lack of acceptance of myself and my own flaws.

There is still a long road ahead.

And beyond that…

Pinchas Hirsch is a couples counselor M.F.C.