I used to believe in soulmates. Fuck. Didn't you? At several junctures across time, it seemed like a splendid idea. To think there was someone tinkered especially to suit all your funkiest, twistiest needs and lacks. Now that's how you make a sale. I see I'm jumbling words again. This won't be too long.
Do you believe that each of us has a soulmate?
Not each, only the really good among us.
Wouldn't that be a twist? As humans, we're poised to believe in black and white. That bizarre proto-communism that sometimes takes hold of your mind. We either all have one, or nobody has one. What if just a privileged few have a soulmate? A true, proper, well-worded answer to those screams most primal and foul arising from the depths?
Be an interesting thought experiment. To believe in a soulmate. It works on the agreement that if we both believe, you and me, not me and him, but you and me. If we both believe, that means we're both looking for 'em and (presumably) that we'll both at some point find those soulmates. But what if only you've got one to find? I'm being courteous. In actuality, fuck you. If only one of us gets a perfect partner, I expect it to be me. And so do you.
And if there are, what are they based on? Are they awarded on merit? Will I get one if I'm a really good girl? Fat chance of finding out now. All those properly good girls have got a head-start of about ten years. Or maybe it's more a case of who dares wins. Isn't it always, in matters of desire?
The notion that everyone has a "special someone" set aside just for them banks on the supposition that even the sluggish have their day. Since there's someone out there designed especially for you, the myriad of ways in which you fuck up no longer matters. You'll still get to them eventually. It doesn't matter if you let your shortcomings grow into medium-sized comings, or even prolonged, larger-than-life-smoke-after comings. There is still someone out there who is engineered to want you and you alone.
There isn't.
We want each other compulsively at all times. All of us amongst ourselves. Want. Need. Improve. Relapse. Then begin again the following day. I think your soulmate is the one you stick it out with, in the end. The one you make it work with.
The bug with that word is that we're reading it wrong. The accent isn't on the first syllable. It was never about the soul at all, though I believe there are soul affinities every now and again. People with whom you just click.
You should be focusing on the mate though. That bitter taste at the end of a long disgruntled day. The Vladimir to your Estragon. Someone who can watch you take off your boots at your lowest and find safety in the sight. Who makes it work day-in day-out.
What a shit definition of a soulmate that is. Right?
None of us dreams of the person they wash dishes alongside, myself included. Or the person who's still around after a nasty fight where both say things they should've kept to themselves. Something doesn't fit. That's your life mate. I think we can all agree on that - your life mate is the one you make it work with. The one where you both compromise and are open enough and do all those good, healthy, dating guru things to make it fucking stick this time.
But that's not your soulmate. It's a bastardization of the concept, it's redefining a noble (if misconstrued) concept to fit the outcome of your story. Well, fuck you. Who let you in charge of words?
Matter of fact, who is in charge of words? I asked Google. According to the great machine, a soulmate is someone you feel a deep natural affinity to (without it being clingy, needy, toxic or what have you). Except as some of us know, you can have that with multiple people across time. Some do, and some have it with no one, ever. Not the people they're married to for 40 years, even. So what happened there? Was there a mis-distribution of assets? Did some among us get the soulmates for their neighbors, as well?
That's a sad thought. So I choose not to think it. I don't think there's a big, definitive mate to my soul. I think there's several littler ones who come and go and trip and stumble on similar rhythms to mine. It's a liberating reframing, but in the end, I only speak for mine own soul.
You are in charge of yours.
This was an answer to this week's Ladies of Hive question about soulmates. It's a tempting idea when I'm feeling lonely. But personally, I find it terribly one-dimensional and dull.
And since I missed #threetunetuesday this week, here's a small musical selection. Just because I don't like the concept of soulmate doesn't mean I can't enjoy the music.
You had a way so familiar
But I could not recognize
'cause you had blood in your face
And I had blood in my eyes
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine
This woman is freaking fantastic, isn't she?
But if it's not the real deal
Then I don't know it
'Cause it sure does feel
And I think it sure does show
You should see her sing this to him live. Brilliant stuff.
I will feel you
I will see you
I will hear you
And I will keep you
After the silence
But it could well be I'm wrong. Do you think there's someone out there for everyone?
