The Case for “You Complete Me”
“You complete me.”
It’s the phrase that triggers a lot of ranting.
I’ve heard a lot about why “You complete me” should be abolished… scrapped, terminated, annihilated, obliterated, and wiped out.
It pisses some people off.
In fact, there’s a lot of anger out there about it. And it’s associated with teenage drama queens who bawl and squall about boyfriend breakups for weeks on end, wailing they’re not complete without the erstwhile Romeo.
I myself have never heard a female say it, but maybe I don’t get out enough.
A different perspective
The truth is, the phrase was coined by Tom Cruise in the 1996 movie “Jerry Maguire” in a pivotal moment as he declares his love and, yes, implied need for his wife, played by Renee Zellweger.
Personally, I disliked the movie. A lot. Promoted as a “romantic comedy-drama sports film” (huh?), it exhausted me with the conflict and greed which seemed to saturate every other scene. (If I never hear “Show me the money!” and “What have you done for me lately?” again, it’ll be too soon.)
But that scene where he silences a room full of chattering women, confronts his wife and lays his heart bare… well… I get a little misty-eyed watching it. And I don’t even like Tom Cruise.
But he did a number on me with that phrase.
People think it implies insufficiency. I disagree.
Taken literally, those words makes no sense. We are all complete total packages, and most of us are capable of living happy, well-adjusted lives, barring serious health issues. Whether we do so or not is up to each of us, but we are capable of it. Some of us do it better than others, sure, but nobody needs another human being to literally complete them. (Again, barring serious health issues.)
Let’s look at it another way….
We are each living, breathing works of art.
Think of a beautiful painting. It’s whole, in and of itself. It’s a finished piece and would look lovely on your living room wall. But put a beautiful frame around it, and what do you get? Something even MORE beautiful.
The frame completes the masterpiece.
With or without, it’s still whole
Or how about cake? (Because with me, it’s usually about food.) The very word “cake” implies fun, festive occasions. Cake is delicious. I could be wrong, but isn’t cake a food group?
Some cakes stand alone, others lend themselves to tasty additions.
Take pound cake - sturdy, strong, yet tender and moist, pound cake doesn’t need frosting. A glaze is sometimes nice, or a whipped-cream-with-peaches topping. But they’re not needed — pound cake is divine all by itself in its own buttery, sturdy, plain yet delicious goodness.
As are some people. They have friends, they may have lovers, but they are just fine all by themselves. Independent, strong and steady.
And alone by choice.
Butter cakes, on the other hand (think traditional birthday cake), are a whole different ball of wax. The cake is perfectly fine all by itself, eaten out of hand with a cold glass of milk. Tender, soft and sweet, it can still hold its own on the dessert plate.
But add frosting and what do you get — a sublime creation, a food fit for the gods. Heaven on a plate. The cake doesn’t have to have frosting. But what was perfectly fine before becomes even better - an amazing combination of two delicious substances, turning each other into food fit for royalty.
The frosting completes that cake like nobody’s business.
I’ve been cake-without-frosting for a long time over the years. And I’m really good at it, too. Self-sufficient, independent, strong and dependable, I raised two smaller cakes on my own and could continue to live alone for the rest of my life. And be perfectly fine with it.
But I happen to like frosting on my cake.
And frankly, I want a man who likes frosting too.
My sweetie tells me I complete him. Here’s this strong, secure manly man who can build a house with one hand and tenderly cradle my heart in the other. He’s sturdy, reliable, dependable and tough when he needs to be, yet here he is, telling me I’m the frosting on his cake.
No, he doesn’t need me to “complete” him as an individual — he’s already whole, perfectly capable of living a full life without a partner. But he wants frosting on his cake… and I am it.
I complete him, and he regularly tells me so.
In fact, we’re both really good cake - strong and secure individuals, just fine living on our own, with friends and family to accompany us on our respective journeys. But with each other, we make a beautiful, delicious creation.
We complete each other.
Yeah, I can live with that.
