LOVE SOMEONE LIKE IT MEANS SOMETHING

“Love someone, anyone, just not them.”

How many times have you heard that? Never? Me neither, but it feels like that’s the rule.

As long as we love someone, anyone, we can all rest easier.

But, what if . . . ?

Soulmate Review

If you’ve got a soulmate, if you’re sure it’s a soulmate, stop reading and click through.

This is a better post for soulmate people.

What about the rest of us? Is a soulmate, finding a soulmate, the goal of human existence?

Ask your partner in life.

If they say yes, but they married you anyway, they stick around in spite of your particular brand of soulessness, all that means is they’re open to possibilities.

You might be asking yourself now, “But Dave, does that mean that they’re still looking for a soulmate if I’m not it?”

A Lifetime To Love Someone

You’re worried about your partner looking for a soulmate because you’re not The One and you know it?

That’s you, brother, not them. It works like this:

If they call you their soulmate, then you are just that, their soulmate.

There’s no accounting for judgement, taste, personal choice, or blindness. If you are their soulmate, be happy about their nearsightedness.

If you can’t reciprocate with, “And you’re my soulmate, too,” it doesn’t mean you love fail. And it’s not about ‘being honest.’ Come on.

Free To Love What You Want

An old man sold newspapers in NYC. I’d stop and buy a paper on my way to work.

We’d talk about where he was from, and how things worked in India. It was the late 70’s.

“I see people with other people all the time,” he said. “No one stays together.”

Since he was from another country, I wanted to understand how it was there.

“I have learned to love a woman, one woman, because loving one woman means you love all women,” he said.

I think it was a metaphor?

“We all have choices, and the most important is choosing kindness,” he said.

Soooo, I met a woman on the subway, a pretty girl from out of town, which explains her talking to me. Who ever talks to strangers waiting for a train.

“Do you have the time?” she asked, standing in front of me while I focused on a book I was reading.

I ignored the question New York-style, it’s what you do when you aren’t up for the hustle.

“Excuse me, do you have the time?” she asked again.

Without looking up, I said, “Time to get a new watch.”

She stayed in front of me and said, “Oh, you must be a New Yorker. We heard about you back home.”

“Five thirty,” I said, lowering my book. “Where are you from?”

“Oklahoma,” she said. “I came here to work in a food testing lab in Brooklyn. I’m a biological scientist.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“No,” she said smiling up, “I live in Brooklyn.”

We were in lower Manhattan. I laughed, she laughed, we caught the same train until her stop. Mine was a few after hers.

“This is my stop,” she said.

“I’ve got a few more. Wanna see my neighborhood? Get a cup of coffee?”

So we did.

“I live across the street if you want to see my place,” I said.

And she did. What the heck?

I’d just seen a Woodie Allen movie where he told a woman that he wanted to avoid an awkward kiss later, so why not get it over with sooner?

I said that with my back turned to unlock my street door with three keys. I heard something behind me. It was her running away.

We’d exchanged phone numbers on the train, so I waited until she got home, about half an hour, before I called.

“This is David. We just met on the train. Look, the kissy stuff was a Woodie Allen line from one of his movies. It was funny in the movie, so why not say it? I’m sorry you were frightened, but I’m calling just to make sure you got home. My neighborhood isn’t very friendly at night. I’m glad you’re okay, so I’ll toss your number. Sorry if I sounded like a masher because I’m not. Okay? Good to meet you, good-bye.”

I hung on the line after good-bye, waiting for her click.

After a pause she said, “This weekend let’s go to Prospect Park. There’s lots to do there.”

And there was. Lot’s to do at the Bronx Zoo, too. We found lots to do, which included lots of listening to her talk about some guy in Oklahoma. Was there really a guy there?

Waiting For The Right Person

There’s a key to getting over lost love, bad relationships, whatever you want to call it.

Whether it was your fault, or not; whether there was any fault, or just a case of bad time and place, the next job isn’t wallowing in self pity.

But you probably will.

The next job is getting yourself together, doing a personal inventory, and carrying on.

When Susan ran off in my neighborhood, she was more at risk on the street than at my door, but she didn’t know that.

Figure yourself out better, and how you present yourself. If a new person is critical of something, don’t see it as an invitation to unload a lifetime of hate on the same thing.

They won’t get it. What they’ll get is you going off the rails.

Not liking the same things isn’t the foundation for a future together.

Understanding why you don’t like something, and finding a way to accept it in others, is the foundation.

Call it kindness, but a chance to love someone with your whole heart is worth waiting for, in spite of their faults.

And yours.