"... accepting the other person's worst features, not their best."
Love doesn't exist. It's a figment of our imagination. Our best is rarely good enough to outweigh the bad; the only variable is how long it takes for the bad to tip the scales out of our favor.
We all talk such with such pretension, pretending we're faultless and infallible. We don't know what love is.
It's malleable and indistinct, much like the truth. If you expect black and white you'll have to read the grey.