I will not scout bars, coffee shops, marriage portals, social media websites, etc. with any hope of chance encounters with you. I’m just going to write this blog post and hope it finds its way to you. Something like a message in a bottle.
Err… Hi.
This is a little awkward. I’m not good at initiating a conversation but I hope this medium eases things. Heaven knows I would have been completely tongue-tied or stuttering like a fool if you were sitting across me, looking as gorgeous as I’m sure you do with that irresistible air of nonchalance and confidence.
I’ve been thinking about you lately… like for the past decade or so. I’m sorry I gave your rightful place to others but they all claimed to be you. You didn’t make things any easier by never reaching out either. I know I could have done the same but, hey, maybe we aren’t even acquainted yet. And maybe we are acquainted but are too blind to see that we are soulmates.
I’ll be honest with you. I don’t believe much in the concept of “someone somewhere is made for you.” It just seems a bit silly that the cosmos decided to put everything on hold and said, “Hey! Let’s create people in pairs and have them spend frickin years just looking for each other.” Well, actually it sounds more evil than silly so, yeah, it’s quite a possibility that we were created in pairs.
I must apologize for taking so long to find my way to you. Not really, though, I’m sure you’re having a swinging time with whoever you are dating right now. Because if you are my soul mate, you must be nice enough to have your pick. Unless of course, that ol’ “opposites attract” theory happens to be true. In which case you are probably making love to your fifth helping of dinner, with the sauce dribbling down your chin — If this describes you, I’m glad you decided to stay away this long. (Please continue to do the same!)
It is imperative for you to know that I’m a terrible judge of character. So if you are going to be super gallant and chivalrous and treat me really well, I’m going to walk out on you. However, if you can manage to act like a complete schmuck who won’t give me the time of the day, trust me, I’ll chase you around ’til I hear Gloria Gaynor singing “I will survive” again.
I’m only kidding. I’m quite certain that when we do meet, you will be nice enough to tell me that you’ve been looking for me too and are tired of all those impostors who promised you the world but walked out on you. (I know you are the one who walked out on them because, after all, we need to have some things in common.)
Things are going great for me right now. I’m 30 years old, have a promising career (don’t ask me what it’s promising, though), a few close friends, and a very supportive family. I don’t really need you. And I hope you don’t need me, either. It would be awful if we got together because of something based on a feeling as pitiful as need.
I will not scout bars, coffee shops, marriage portals, social media websites, etc. with any hope of chance encounters with you. The kind of men I’ve met so far at these places are not soulmate-material at all. I’m just going to write this blog post and absolve myself of all responsibility. Something like a message in a bottle. And I’ll hope it finds its way to you. Doesn’t have to be now. Take your time. I’m in no rush and I’ve got enough work and distractions to keep myself busy ’til you come by.
To make things easier and to make sure that this letter is not answered to by the wrong person (after all, you are one of a kind), I’m going to describe you so you know this for you:
- You are either a geek or an information junkie.
- You are not a writer/artist. Okay maybe you are but you still get high on information.
- You feel uncomfortable in huge crowds. Not awkward, just uncomfortable.
- You have taken at least one decision in your life for which you have been called selfish or vain.
- You are happy.
- You are more than 5 feet 8 inches tall (oh, come on, you have to be at least as tall as me!)
- You smell great. All the time.
- Work is important to you and you are not a shiftless bum.
- You are not religious.
- You love food and will order for me when we go out to eat.
- You love long drives with the music on full volume.
- You are probably not from this planet. Or if you were born here, you sure as hell don’t feel like you belong here. I want to assure that it’s all right. I’ve made peace with the fact that you don’t belong to the human species. But hey, we need to work out a language we both understand, okay?
Write to me with your three-fingered hand. I’ll wait.
Love,
You-know-who.
This blog post first appeared on Natasha K.’s personal blog.
Image courtesy of JD | Photography via Creative Commons.
Editor’s note:
Want some more relationship gyaan from Natasha K.? Read: Finding Mr. Right by Avoiding Mr. Wrong.
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