A Mate for My Soul

(I apologize in advance for this. I wrote it at 12:30 at night and it’s a bit more scattered than I’d like, but…)

As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, I have amazing friends and relatives. Jaime, you were the first friend I ever had, and the only one I’ve ever gone on a road trip with. We know we get punchy after 11 hours in a car. Jena, there are very few people with whom I can talk about absolutely nothing for hours on end, starting out the conversation talking about phone poles and somehow ending up talking about soft pretzels. Stacey, we spent one day together in like ’97, and then I didn’t see you for years, but when you moved back we clicked in a second. I thank God for each and every one of you on a daily basis. I know no matter what I go through, you all have my back.

That said, I’ve still never found that one friend, the one who is as healthily crazy as I am, who shares all my interests, who truly, 1,000% gets me. And I’m starting to wonder if I ever will.

For some people, this friend is a sibling. For others, it’s a boyfriend or girlfriend. For still others, it’s that best friend from high school or college or work or wherever. The best term I’ve come across for this is “soul mate.” A soul mate isn’t necessarily romantic. It’s just that one person with whom you share a certain connection that can’t easily be explained, but you know you’d travel this world and others if they asked you to.

And I’d really like to find that person, the one who will drop everything if I need something, the one who will not only support my insane ideas but will even encourage them, the one who wants to go to plays and movies all the time, who reads fantasy and sci-fi. The one who, when a movie featuring some of our favorite actors is filming in town, will ride all over the city and countryside for days trying to find them, just for that hope of meeting them for 30 seconds and getting an autograph. The one who watches TV and gets as into it as I do. The one who thinks my ideas – no matter how crazy, stupid, immature, or strange – sound like a heckuva good time.  The one who hangs out with me almost every weekend, even if all we do is watch movies or TV on DVD and pig out on candy and popcorn. But, most importantly, the one for whom I can return the favor.

In Jena, Jaime, Stacey, and others, I have people who understand me. We love to be around each other and can complete each other’s sentences and practically read each other’s thoughts. But even though I understand them and they me, that doesn’t mean we get each other all the time.

Maybe I’m just too old to hope for such a thing. But I’d like to think that someday I might find mine.


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