> One afternoon, Nasruddin and his friend were sitting in a cafe, drinking tea, and talking about life and love.
> “How come you never got married, Nasruddin?” asked his friend.
> “Well,” said Nasruddin, “to tell you the truth, I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo, I met a beautiful, intelligent woman, with eyes like dark olives, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous, but we had no interests in common. One woman after another would seem just right, but there was always something missing. Then one day, I met her. She was beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had everything in common. In fact she was perfect.”
> “How come you never got married, Nasruddin?” asked his friend.
> “Well,” said Nasruddin, “to tell you the truth, I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo, I met a beautiful, intelligent woman, with eyes like dark olives, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous, but we had no interests in common. One woman after another would seem just right, but there was always something missing. Then one day, I met her. She was beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had everything in common. In fact she was perfect.”
> “What happened?” Nasruddin’s friend asked, “Why didn’t you marry her?”
> Nasruddin replied, “It’s a sad thing. Seems she was looking for the perfect man.”