Soulmate Search Day 2

Jan. 13th, 2010 at 2:16 PM

Hey! (you might be asking, with some justification) What happened to Day 1?

Ah. Unfortunately, Day #1 was spent, bored witless, in the doctor's office. I was reading The Soulmate Secret: Manifest the Love of Your Life with the Law of Attraction! Which is always a pleasant daydream to have when you're bored. "Manifesting the love of my life ....." sounded like something the "Charmed" sisters would concoct in their San Francisco kitchen, and I was almost hoping it was an easy-peasy recipe book. "Add a pinch of testosterone, a drop of essence of prickly pear, gold paint, tanning lotion, a six pack of Bud and stir in a pair of used boxer shorts ... don't forget to add a tablespoon of olive oil if you want an Italian stallion ... and voila!" Out of the pot would emerge the "Love of My Life". Ahh, what bliss! No dating, no searching, no waiting for the phone call ... no discovering that the love of my life was an illiterate boob, as I recently did in an e-mail from a Latino hunk who had expressed an interest in taking me out for a night of "star gassing" -- it's hard to play Juliet when you're snapping, "I hope you meant GAZING, Romeo, you twit!"

I can't really count Day #1 as a serious attempt on my part, because on the very first page, the author asks you a series of rather abrupt and personal questions, which you're expected to answer from a state of positive, hopeful and faith-filled affirmation, like: "Are you ready to meet your soulmate today? Right now? RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE????"

I'm guessing I was supposed to say "Yes! Oh yes, I certainly am!", but instead I'm looking around the doctor's office at the possibilities. Nobody under 80, for one thing, and all sick and infectious for another. Today?? Right now?? Well, not unless he's a gay fan of snot with the immune system of a Greek god, because - well, let's face it, my nose is running, my teeth are chattering feverishly and my voice is so low and gravelly I sound like a guy in drag with a deviated septum. Even the 80 year old geezers wouldn't have me, looking and sounding like this. If my soulmate showed up NOW, I'd need to waste a lot of time having him checked out for serious psychological and emotional issues first.

I carefully fill in my answer to this question, "No, not today - but thanks for asking. I'll have my peeps call your peeps, k?" Best I could come up with yesterday.

Another question I was supposed to answer, while blowing my nose so repeatedly I sounded like a honking goose en route to Canada: "Do you believe your soulmate is out there?"

What, in the parking lot? I peek surreptitiously out the front window of the doctor's office. All I see is another stupid woman parking her SUV in two parking spaces, sideways. I think, "If I see a guy pull up in a tow truck and drag that dumb broad's SUV to the nearest police impound lot, he's mine, I don't care if he weighs 300 pounds and snores!" No one appeared, tow truck or otherwise.

Okay, okay, I know the author meant out there GENERALLY - as in "somewhere in the world". Did I think that? I started getting a little nervous. I mean, the world is a big place. Who knows what's out there? With my luck, my soul mate would look like that little lower caste Indian beggar guy on the handcart who starred in an episode of the "X Files", and somehow got into people's abdomens, or crawled up their butts or something and then burst out of them, leaving a bloody trail of entrails behind him - Chris Carter was a little fuzzy on how he got IN; but very graphic as to how he got OUT.

As soon as I caught myself thinking about the Indian beggar guy on the hand cart bursting out of people's stomachs when I was supposed to be thinking about soulmates ... I got something of a glimpse as to why I'd never found him. The soulmate, I mean, not the beggar guy. That was where my mind went when I started contemplating "soulmates"? Holy crap!

I have to say, though, I can trace this back to a nightmare I had when I was a girl ... I have no idea what generated it. Here was the dream: I'm getting married, white wedding dress and all. I'm walking alone up the center aisle of a huge, largely empty, cavernous cathedral with dust motes visible in the shards of light coming in through the high stained glass windows. The music on the church organ is echoing and full of thundering bass notes. I'm not particularly happy to be where I am, but in my dream mind, I feel I have no choice. I'm not frightened at all - just ... bewildered, because I had no idea how I ended up walking up this aisle, about to get married. There's a man in a black suit standing with his back to me, facing a priest on the altar. I get to the front of the church and stop; turn to face the man in the black suit, and realize I've never seen him before in my entire life. Have no idea who he is. He's much older than I am, cold, disinterested and a little frightening. Then he smiles and it's the scariest smile I've ever seen. THAT's when the terror surged, and I woke up.

I only had that dream once, but once was enough and darned if I hadn't carried it around with me somewhere in my subconscious ever since. Thus the thought progression from "Manifesting a Soulmate" to "Indian beggar guy on handcart clawing his way out of people's intestines". I was about to say, "Eureka! Epiphany!", but started sneezing instead and lost the enthusiasm of the moment trying to find a handy kleenex.

So: Soulmate Search Day #1: decide to rid myself of the guy in the black suit, who I have apparently been carrying around in my head most of my life. Not quite sure how to do that. Yet. I'll replace him with ... (insert photo of a male model named Bruno Santos, who I've also never seen before in my entire life, but who would probably be a lot more enticing and less scary than the man in the black suit.) To be more specific, if I got to an altar and found THIS guy standing there, I'd be yahoo'ing and howling "jackpot!", and reacting in a very unbridelike manner ... meaning I'd probably end up being HIS worst nightmare as far as soulmates go, but that's another day's entry.

Mmmm... okay, be that as it may, he'll definitely do as an imaginary replacement. Although I'll probably have to stop the ceremony to ask, "What, you had an unfortunate encounter with a mountain lion on your way to the church? An old girlfriend got her nails done recently? You lost the Armani suit already? That cost a year's salary and you show up in a ripped t-shirt, you insensitive clod..." ... uh. No, scratch that .... double entendre intended -- yeah, it's obvious I'm just prime soulmate material, isn't it?

Are claw marks across a man's chest supposed to mean something sexy? Maybe guys like it, but to me, it just looks like a woman who forgot to go to the manicurist and has scratchy claw hooks for nails. Anyway, I think he's Brazilian and not Italian, but he's as close as I can get out of Google Images on such short notice.