Imagine you've just met someone, but both of you know that you are meant for each other. This actually happens all the time.
Well, not all the time, but we aren't unique. Things escalate wildly in timeframes that are not accepted by others.
People said I was moving too fast with my editor in college. It was eight days from hating each other to me waking up in her apartment. You just fucking know.
This was glacial.
Except you don't. It's viewed as hate. Trying to figure out what the fuck is going on takes cognition. While everyone else in the newsroom is well aware of the trajectory.
It takes love to hate. I'd have liked to learn that earlier.
And thus, I became a journalist. Seriously, it was one woman, not an interest in the field. But you know how it goes with your girlfriend when she knows how to design pages better than you.
This means war. And I of course went raver because I was too scared of having middle-age sorted out at 19.
But let's say you're not needing a career. Now the concerns are different.
And then you find out why the term "soulmate" exists. As with porn, you know it when you see it.
The main issue is you can't see what you're looking for. No one in their right mind is looking for the other half of them.
I suppose a better term is "twin flame," and what we proceeded to do suggests this as a more valid label. We still support each other.
I realize why we can't possibly work, but that doesn't change the physical feeling when she touches me or I touch her. This was initially alarming.
In 2009.
So we got married, This was not a great idea, as neither of us wanted what had happened. Sometimes, wants have to cave to reality.
We've been divorced for a decade, but this seems irrelevant once one considers the touch. It's, uh ... not what you expect out of life, but what ever is?
She remains Mrs. Powderhorn. And we are scrambling to figure out how the fuck we still can't detatch. There's no world in which we act any other way than as decadeslong partners.
This has made looking for new partners over the last decade difficult. When you have irritating, challenging perfection, what the fuck's the point of anything else?
I should likely stop here, as this sounds insane unless you've felt it.