I Only Have Eyes For You

My love must be a kind of blind love.
I can't see anyone but you.

I was thinking about how people are blinded by love. They seem to see only what they want to see and believe what they want to believe. I've seen this for years. Friends who have married complete bitches or bastards. And they are the only ones without a clue.

Are the stars out tonight?
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright.
I only have eyes for you, dear.

And I have seen friends marry kind, beautiful people that they don't deserve. Wives or husbands with a natural and complete devotion that surpasses all reason. Some times my friends take them for granted and sometimes they have enough self-awareness to realize just how lucky they are.

The moon may be high,
But I can't see a thing in the sky.
'Cause I only have eyes for you.

Sometimes we search for an unattainable ideal. I have a female friend who has an actual checklist. Her perfect man must possess certain characteristics and be able to answer certain key questions to pass muster. When I suggested that maybe she was setting her standards too high and that that man does not exist. She replied, "Well, maybe not yet."

I don't know if we're in a garden
Or on a crowded avenue.

So I feel sorry for this imaginary future guy. My friend is so blinded by her supposed ideal that he will be competing with an idealized version of himself. The poor, sorry bastard will never measure up. And my friend will never be satisfied either. While she is looking for Mr. Right, her soulmate may be sitting next to her.

You are here, so am I.
Maybe millions of people go by.
But they all disappear from view.
And I only have eyes for you.

I suggested one time that maybe the checklist wasn't such a good idea. That maybe forty items were too many to satisfy. Eventually she grudgingly agreed. Not that she was setting her standards too high. Oh, no. It's just the caliber of available men.

So she is still blinded by her ideal and is having a series of disappointing relationships because she has pre-fallen in love with the perfect man. Who will never exist.

I did get that one concession from her, though. She has whittled the list down to twenty points. So if you are ever out to dinner with a slightly zany blond and you aren't sure how it's going; if she pulls out a well worn checklist on a dog-eared sheet of yellow paper, you'll know that at least you had potential.

(lyrics by Al Dubin)