Yesterday’s Daily Prompt was about soulmates and it was asked, “Who is the yin to your yang?”
I started writing about it yesterday, but life got in the way. I brought this up with The Mister today. It turns out, we’re on the same page.
I said the word soulmate is abused and never lives up to expectation. He said the term soulmate is overly romanticized.
We nodded and nibbled on our cheese curds.
I said I don’t think he’s the yin to my yang. but that his sister is.
“I think Drew is the yin to my yang.”
“Do you really?”
“Yes. You’re opposites.”
“And it’s easy.”
“It is so easy.”
Honestly, I have no idea how on earth Drew and I have maintained this friendship for close to thirty years. I guess we both enjoy diversity, learning, and thrift stores, but I cannot, for the life of me, explain how it works.
I am heavy snow and she is desert dry. I am plain white and she is embellished black. I am acerbic and she is sweet. I am clumsy and she is graceful. I am awkward and she is cool. You know how people do — She is Marilyn Monroe and I am Eleanor Roosevelt. She is Elvis and I am The Beatles. I mean, just, pound for pound, could not be any different.
Now and again we find we’ve read the same book or bought the same shoes, and there’s an eerie pause.
And yet, if there is anyone I could be convinced is a soulmate, it’s Drew.
So if you go by the theory of yin to yang, then she’s my yin. And trust me, she’s the yin — she’s far more feminine.
But if you go by Aristophanes per Plato, then The Mister and I are much more likely to be two halves of one. I dismiss this theory on grounds that it’s limiting to sexuality, and he rejects it on the basis that he’s tired of philosophy, but it still fits us better than yin-yang.
We’re very much the same. Way more same than different. Enough same that it is not easy. Enough same that we get plenty of friction, which must surely account for the bulk of our chemistry. Passionate, strong-willed, eager, intense, deliberate, honest, cutting.
On the same side we’re a bit Dynamic Duo, but on opposite sides, we’re volatile and make other people
I don’t know what the deal is with that, but sometimes we get heated and if we stop long enough to take a breath, we find the room has cleared out a bit and those who remain look stunned. This makes us laugh, of course, and then we resume our discussion.
As a fatalist, I choose to believe The Mister and I were played by kismet. Looking back on us, it seems obvious, although I promise it didn’t at the time. Like, we were just really good friends and then all the sudden we were this.
Still, I don’t think of him as my soulmate.
I was happy without him. I wasn’t walking around in search of my missing piece. I know I personally wouldn’t want the pressure to fulfill someone in every way. That sounds needy, suffocating, and quite frankly, scary as fuck.
Kinda dangerous, we think, all the attention given to The Search For The One True Love. Suggests there’ll be someone who ticks every box and fills all the holes and makes up for everything else. I just don’t know anyone who has this. I know plenty of real love, real marriage, which translates to real work for real bliss.
Don’t get me wrong, The Mister makes up for a lot that I lack. He has strong hands and he can math and pack a car. He can schmooze all the people and reach all the high shelves.
(More importantly, FOOD! He likes the nuts I don’t. He eats the hazelnuts, almonds, and cashews, leaving me pistachios, walnuts, and pecans. He’s always happy to take my frosting, or eat the soft center of brownies. What? A lot of marriage is sharing, y’know!)
We both agreed, the implication that one must find a soulmate is rather limiting to the experience of love and kinship. I have encountered many kindred spirits in my life. Perhaps they were all destined to share my journey for a time. Surely all of them have enriched my life.