Love Is Not Waiting on the Dancefloor
I (re)started a dream journal recently. When I finally remembered to write down a dream when I woke up, I found this undated previous entry, from sometime in the last year or two:
“Physicists have cracked the code for true love, so everyone in the world gets to write a letter to their soulmate to be delivered by a special postal system. But some, including mine, don’t get delivered, so I have to go into the office to send and receive mine. I get my letter and I’m crying, I’m so happy. And the guy is there! His name is Giuseppe, he has sandy brown hair and is wearing an army green wax jacket. I’m still crying from joy for finally having an answer, and I open the letter. It just says “Don’t sit on the piano at New Years.” I am heartbroken - in this minimal letter, I realize that this man hates women and is really bitter and mean. My tears of joy turn into tears of hurt, without stopping. All this time and pain and anxiety - and my soulmate is a terrible person.”
Needless to say, my “accidentally walking into an orgy and not feeling welcome” dream paled in comparison.
The soulmate dream stuck with me. I kept turning over in my mind. I’m not sure I even believe in soulmates, but if I did: what if my soulmate is a terrible person? What if all this waiting and searching and dating was for someone who was not worth it?
These questions have kept me from a dreamy sleep many nights of my life. And my answer has always been - the only way to live my life is assuming that he will show up at some point. But to keep from losing my sanity while I wait, I need to keep living my life.
So I’ve been doing that. I went to my first sex party, solo, which was an incredibly intimidating. And I went to a rave solo this weekend, which was not as fun as going with friends but more certainly more fun than staying home.
No, I didn’t flirt with anyone or even talk to anyone at the rave. There’s no magical meet cute to end this train of thought - but I did have an incredible time at the rave. Romance and romantic magic is not the conclusion of every story. My only commitment for the time being is to mine my seratonin elsewhere.
In the mean time, I’m not taking any guff from assholes, soulmate or not.