I’m troubled by a very famous ideology; something that I suspect exists back to circa Adam and Eve. To better get the picture, here’s a question:
“Do you believe that there really is one person that is MEANT to be our partner in life? Say…a soulmate?”
The idea that people are halves of a set, like pieces of a two-piece jigsaw puzzle–or either of black and white, left and right, dark and light, dull and bright, whiskey and sprite–that one person existed in such a way that every strand of his/her emotional DNA is a perfect complement to yours is very, very comforting (or scary, depending on your degree of antisocial-ness).
Maybe the right word would be romantic?
I think I’d rather have it true because then, it would mean that no one of us is bound to live alone, and forever un-/misunderstood. It means that no one of us would die unloved.
But, alas, I see a lot of loopholes with the hole whole thing.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with you for thinking I’m just another cynical bitch.
But tell me, if soulmates exist, what happened to the other halves of people with a medical condition that gives them no choice but to face the world with the fronts of their heads a worse sight than a lump of turd in the middle of your newly washed bed sheets? To those of people born with a psychological condition that makes them unable to return feedback to our side of reality? To unborn fetuses’ other halves–are they meant to search (wait) their whole lives for people (do you call fetuses people?) already long gone? Was J. Aniston’s other half included in that population?
And how can you tell if a person is your soulmate anyway? Surely, it’s not “We’re the only people in the world at this very moment” movie stuff, no?
It’s got to be better than that.
If I could be a love god for a day, I would change some of those soulmate laws, starting with a decree that if people already meet their soulmates they would feel something super-ultra-extraordinary. Something that wouldn’t be possibly missed except for the idiot-est of idiots.
Something like this:
Sadly, excerpts from reality attest to nothing of that sort. On the contrary, most people who believe they have met their soulmates end up getting wasted in a bar, pregnant, or wanting to kill themselves a week or two, okay possibly a month later.
Why is it very difficult for us to sort out the right people in this love game? It’s like we’re kindergartens again, guessing who among the other snot-filled kids could possibly be our BFF only to end up being butchered by the small, scrawny kid who turns out to be the resident bully. Talk about appearances!
Then…there are always those who seem to have found the real thing. Couples who have been together for more than half a century and still give each other a peck in the morning and/or before they sleep. Who hold hands at random times each day. Think of that Adam Sandler song.
Despite the wobbly knees and incompetent bladders, there IS something absolutely romantic with old people finding joy in the monotonous presence of the faces of their partners.
Perhaps it is because they are a living defiance against the crappy relationships we get ourselves tangled into? A proof that love could be more than just being a trophy partner, a foot rug, a safety net, a last resort, a practical economic need, a one-night stand, an express relationship, an always-friend-never-something-more., a punching bag, a walking ATM, and the other million variants that exist.
They are a proof that it is possible to be happy in a relationship and continue doing so for a long while, a strand of white hair at a time.They are putting to life what we could only desire for ourselves.
And they make us happy, inspired, hopeful, envious, resentful, and self-pitying, all in that exact order.
Perhaps soulmates exist. And even if they do, there’s always the possibility you might never find that person even if you live up to ninety. Or he/she could be who you’re presently in a relationship with, one with so many problems. Who knows?
Nobody said that a relationship with your soulmate is bound to be perfect except perhaps your six-year old Disney-obsessed niece. Maybe instead of hoping/searching/waiting to find the right person for us we should work on being the right person for whomever we’re presently committed to instead of jumping from one messy relationship to another as the means of finding your other half.
Maybe that’s where the idea falls short? With its implication that we are not whole as individuals, we wait for the “right” person to start working things out together instead of working on improving ourselves NOW. Maybe it’s not supposed to be like that. Maybe we should try to get the best out of life and send out the best of what we could to the world without waiting for anyone or anything.
Or I could only be full of the raw fish from last night.
I don’t know. I value my own individuality. I do, so much sometimes that even those closest to me could accuse me of being aloof.
But then again, there’s something very appealing, magnetic, romantic with the idea of someone who exists especially for you.
What do you believe in?