Soulmate! GET HERE!
the story before the story of how one soulmate brought me to another
I first met my soulmate in a waking dream, it was in an acting class that was, if I'm honest, super duper annoying. We were lurching around in masks and I was plotting my new major, maybe history? Maybe literature? Anything but this kind of bullshit self inquiry that the study of acting seemed to involve….but whoa. Wait. What is that? In the black box theater with the oh you better believe it dramatic lighting, the pool of light across from me reflected a face of a seriously handsome man A gorgeous man A man who was not there. I intuitively knew he was my soulmate and stared at him, stared hard at him, drinking in his features, his tall body, lanky but not too, his curly black hair, his blue eyes of an ocean that was maybe a bit stormy and not tropical, perhaps the Atlantic? And I felt the magnetic pull between me and the invisible him Me and the air Me and the reflected light of him, I could smell his skin a tiny twinge of sweat but oh man the good kind of sweat, the sweet sweat.
I stood stock still and I said in my little 19 year old mind Hello. He said Hello, I see you. I said Hello, who are you? He said I’m Patrick I said whoa He said We’ll see each other soon I said swoon I said when when when but Patrick This mirage of hotness The air still waving in the heat Was gone
Oh the years I spent looking for Patrick. 19, 20, 21 I met Steves and Richie’s and Roberts. I loved them, I loved them, but not really. I couldn’t. If you weren’t Patrick, 6’1 with blue eyes, you weren’t it. Christian and York and what’s his name from Australia? Oh Steven. 22, 23, 24 Marco, also Australian. Also? Not Patrick 25 oh man I’m starting to lose it “PATRICK! Where are you!??” I dreamt of him one night, such a vivid dream. I saw him, all 6’1 of him, all wavy hair and wave air of him and I said Patrick! I have been looking for you. And suddenly we’re in this amazing capsule type thing, hey I’ve seen enough Star Trek, we’re on a holodeck and there is a pretty cheesy sign above us that says ‘Denver International Airport’ That’s nice, I say to my subconscious, a clue. Thanks! I’ll take it. He says, We’ll find each other soon. I said when, when, when!?
Time marches on, I'm 27 and with another man. Oh god bless him and his nice car and his not Patrick-ness, I tried to talk myself into loving him. During this time I am randomly given a job where I fly through Denver all the time. Twice a month Denver! So I was sure to find him, obviously. On day in June on a day where my work friends were laughing at me for not taking the direct flight to New York I didn’t tell them Oh but an invisible hottie is meant to meet me, so sorry to miss small cups of soda with you I waved as they boarded their plane, I went and found my plane bound for Colorado. I did a lap at the Denver international airport looking for Patrick Staring into the faces of the sleepy travelers Walking up and down every terminal, that is a very large airport I did not see him He wasn’t looking for me. Sinking down against the glass wall of the moving sidewalk, I saw someone else Not Patrick But someone A beautiful man He had a big light around him He wasn’t Patrick He had a big sandwich He looked like a cowboy Poet. In my journal I drew pictures of the scene where I met my soulmate I drew pictures of the meeting of me and that Patrick right here in the airport But all the while I snuck glances at the sandwich man With blonde hair All not 6’1 of him
Aboard the plane I settled into my seat I said hello the window man, he was nice, we were celebrating our good fortune of having a middle seat open all the way to New York But Sandwich man appeared and pointed at the seat I looked up surprised I looked up joyfully I looked up laughing, and said to him You’ll have to climb over all my shit And he laughed a delightful laugh And we talked for 3 hours straight And we talked for 3 hours straight And I looked over at him at one point, I saw this beautiful profile, his beautiful face outlined in the white, white light of the 30,000 feet air And I thought Oh. Oh. I don’t know why, but I do know that I’m going to know this man for a long, long time And 26 years later, I do. I sure do.
the cover of my journal I painted the year I met him
*For a full story about sandwich man, go to this post.
Lovely. Thanks, Jane!
Ooooooh, I love this story! ❤️ Do you ever still see Patrick?