Soulmates is a foolish theory.
The optimistic phenomenon used to mean that a person would only have one soulmate in a lifetime. Modern day definitions allow people to have multiple during their lives, and they may include significant others, friends, or even sexual partners. I’m not talking about the definition’s evolution, but its original meaning.
You’re familiar with the vintage concept, right? God makes two people ideal for each other and somehow, they meet on this massive Earth and live happily ever after. Or sometimes they never meet, like one was in Ireland and the other in Africa before boats or planes were invented. What if one dies? It’s all about fate, soulmate’s insignificant and very imaginary second cousin.
This declaration of mine doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love. I know what the butterflies feel like. Mine came when Roger would bring home some of the wild wisteria that swayed from the trees on base, or a king size Whatchamacallit. I felt it when he would change the baby’s diaper or mow the lawn in his dark green silkies and plastic shower shoes.
Maybe I took the word too literally. Maybe I am seeming bitter, even salty by broaching this topic. If the traditional definition of soulmate is true, and there is merely one person for another, where does that leave me?
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