If you must know, I love him. How could I not love him when he came to me baring his heart? True, I was not looking for a relationship. The thought had not entered my mind in the many years that I had divorced the father of my children. I had dated several times , but no one had come close to conquering my heart. Yes, I had maintained an amorous relationship with a man that lasted on and off for three years, but eventually that too fizzled out.
You see the problem is; I am particular. I am particular about the type of man that can enter my bed, my house, or my mind. It took me a long while to realize what I really wanted was a man just like me. Some people would see that as an obsession with myself, leaning heavily on narcissism, but I ask you to consider this: I have spent decades running from myself; running from who I am, thinking I was never good enough. When I finally gave up that self deprecating view, and spent several years alone, I discovered what a wonderful person I am. The qualities I finally saw in myself, are the same qualities that I had looked for in another person.
In all the years I spent chasing after men; looking for the perfect man with a list of qualities that appealed to me, I never once knew that I too possessed them. Whenever I met someone who had those qualities that I sought, my own fake persona, the cover up of my true self, would take over. The fake persona was very appealing but it wasn't real, and even though the men were attracted to it, they would never stay. It would depress me that the perfect men would slip through my fingers, and I wondered what was wrong with me. It had never occurred to me that they too were looking for someone like themselves, and in my sheep's clothing they never could find it.
As I began to accept myself; to love myself; and to enjoy my own company, my life began to change. I began to see the qualities that I looked for in others in me. Those qualities were enough to keep me company, and I no longer needed a man in my life. I enjoyed my solitude, and I developed my skills of self observance. It was at that point he walked into my life. It was in an uneventful way that he pushed a piece of paper at me, a poem that he had scribbled on a napkin and asked me to consider. I had started to mentally roll my eyes, because I instantly recognized another man on the prowl, but when I read those words I was forced to sit down. I hadn't expected that. I hadn't expected that he had such profound thoughts about me; frankly I had given up on anyone actually seeing me. Well, I couldn't respond. My mouth went dry and all of the witty and sarcastic things that I would usually say flew right out of my mind, and I remained stuttering like a deaf mute.
If you could only see me that day as I folded the letter, and unfolded it; as I read it and read it again; as I put it away in my lingerie drawer, and then peeked inside to see if it was still there. Why, I was taken by that letter. He hadn't put my name on it, probably in case I rejected him he would say it wasn't really meant for me, but I knew each word described me. Each word spoke of the moments that we had shared together, insignificant to others, but to him, and eventually to me they were momentous.
And then I saw him, I truly saw him, and I felt the tingle of familiarity whenever I thought about him. You see, in those years of quiet and solitude, I learned every nuance of my own body. I understood every motivation and every desire, and standing before me was a man whose motivations and desires mirrored mine. He didn't have to say much; he didn't have to say anything, and yet I knew what he wanted to express to me.
It wasn't hard from that moment to accept that I had found my twin soul. There is a lot of negativity surrounding the idea of soul mates. It seems that people think a soul mate is a magical being that comes out of nowhere and finds you and is exactly what you need, but I will tell you, when I found my split pea, he wasn't perfect, he wasn't magical, and even though he is very much like me, the way he chooses to express his individual personality is not exactly the same. He knows what makes me angry, and for a myriad of reasons he may incite that, but the good thing of having a split pea in my pod, he also knows instinctively how to make me happy.
Copyright (c) 2014 SArthur A Tale of A Split Pea