Suppose you marry your best friend – and ask your soulmate to be the bridesmaid..
I was reading Chaotic Soul’s blog recently in which she celebrates her intense and sometimes stormy relationship with her soulmate – who just happens to be her BFF. It’s not a lesbian thing, it’s not about sex at all, it’s a meeting of, I don’t know, souls, for want of a better word.
Long ago I had a girlfriend. We’ll call her Sian. She had charm, brilliance, beauty and a huge bum. Only the last saved her from my undying enmity (well, naturally – who likes to hang around with a girl who has everything you don’t!).
Sian liked men, motorcycles, Mensa and me. I liked anything my conservative parents didn’t. We fell into a certain obsession with each other – at least, that’s how it felt from my side. We moved in together, sat in beanbags having immensely complicated conversations about the true meaning of life (which basically boiled down to ‘will the real genius in this room please stand up!’) and sometimes, we had baths together.
We would sit in the bath, little Rubinesque Sian and me, and talk about why we didn’t want to sleep together. Basically, because neither of us were bisexual. But we sort of felt we should be. How could we be this close, our souls entwined, and not want to play with each other’s bits? I don’t know, but so it was.
The day came when it was clear I’d have to choose between Sian and my man. One stood for security, solid middle-class values and babies. The other lived on the wild side, and it was getting steadily wilder out there. Marriage could be boring, but life with Sian – while intellectually stimulating and satisfyingly rebellious – was too far out of my comfort zone.
So I chose my man, and left my soulmate behind, no regrets. I met Sian once, in some innocuous neutral situation, years later.
‘I don’t think about you often,’ she said, for some reason.
I think about her, though. She’s one of the few people I’ve ever met who always understood what I was getting at, no matter how abstruse. In her presence, I could strip down to my very heart. I doubt she felt the same, but then Sian was a mirror, and showed only the room she happened to be in at the moment. She had the knack of reflecting people back to themselves as they would wish to be seen. I never worked out if there was a real Sian- or just an endless series of reflections in other people’s besotted eyes. I didn’t want to be a reflection of a reflection.
Do you have a soulmate? How do you know when you’ve got one, as opposed to when you just both like shopping?