I'm still fond of the idea of soulmates. Whilst fond, I doubt that it actually exists. I'd like it to, of course but all evidence indicates otherwise. Soulmates are, perhaps, a romantic notion created via our human need to believe in something beyond ourselves. It is an ideal. The epitome of romantic love. I blame the likes of Donne for this. Poets grow the idea of romance - like ivy hanging off the heart.
I'd still like a little romance in my life but I recognise its' transitory nature. It would seem that a good match is a good match and nothing more. Sigh. Do bare with me here because I'm unpicking 30 years of hopes and dreams as I write.
Blind faith. That's what I've had until now. Faith enmeshed with all the romantic comedies, poems, love stories and fairy tales that the years have provided. Plus I'm an idealist and a romantic. My belief in soulmates has never been evidencial. Everytime I've come close to near perfect romantic love, it's ended. Every other time, I've been fooled by charlatans. Thus I have very clear evidence that soulmates are little more than fantasy.
This post doesn't contradict the preceding one. I still want to be wowed with words. This desire is statistically probable because I've been impressed with words before. I have actual evidence of wordy types. Gawd I hope there isn't just one or two men living vaguely close to me that are capable of language - aka a modern day John Donne. Naaaaa. They'll definitely be others. Right?