The concept of a romantic soulmate has always been one that makes me a wee bit pukey. I've hated love stories since I was old enough to figure out that there are no noble princes or enchanted animals that appear when you need aid. Love is ugly, and it is difficult.
Maybe this outlook on mush is one of the things that drew me to my soulmate. I was helping to moderate The Ink Well community when I got to know @yaziris, and there certainly were a fair few love stories there to share nausea over. How odd to think we are both living one now!
It's been nearly a month since I packed my suitcase and traveled across the ocean to finally see my heart face to face. It's something that people have had no problem letting me know they find unhinged. Who meets a man on a crypto blogging site and falls in love?
Me, and I'd be overjoyed to tell you a bit about how that happened— and how it led to me feeling that perhaps we do all have a soulmate!
It's hard to say how it really happened in the beginning. I've always disdained text conversations, and Yaz is not one to go out of his way to be social. It was some ordinary day when we slipped into our first deep talk, one of thousands to come. Some people get to know each other by sharing likes and dislikes, experiences, memories... We did some of that, but through the lens of philosophy.
We spoke about the power of religion in controlling social customs, the history of law and reason, the way we view human nature. It was some saucy flirting, if you're weird enough to get that. Yaz attracted me with his mind, and the deep-seated goodness of his heart. I told him long ago that he was an optimistic nihilist, and I'd still say the same. I've never met anyone like him.
It did not take long for us both to be properly obsessed with each other, although there was quite a bit of denial on both our parts over that. We weren't supposed to like each other the way we did, but nothing seemed to be able to stop it. Soon we were talking basically 24/7, seemingly never running out of things to talk about.
I fell in love with him then I think, before ever knowing what he looked like or even how his voice sounded. You see, this man firmly insisted that he could not speak English. I knew better.
Then finally one day he sent me a photo, and I probably stared at it for hours. Of course, I am greedy, so I just kept asking for more. Sheesh he told me, isn't one enough? NO!
Things went on like this for longer than I'd like to admit. I mercilessly chased Yaz, it was really quite pathetic. I couldn't stop though, and now I am so glad that was the case.
Finally, after lots of asking, he agreed to call me. Wouldn't you know his English was just fine?! In fact, in the calls to come I would realize that he actually spoke English better than people who have spoken it their entire lives. It was not long before we were on the phone all day. We quickly realized that we had a lot of overly specific things in common.
From there things escalated quickly. It is one thing to feel an affinity with someone through text, it is quite another to find the words flowing until you happen to notice that hours have passed. We talked about so many things, all deeply personal and of a somewhat serious nature. We didn't get familiar, more like we picked each other's brains.
It was only after discussing childhoods and young adult idiocy, the parts of ourselves that we keep inside our own heads, then we shared things like favorite foods or colors. I suppose we went in reverse in some ways. I'm not sure we were even dating before we discussed forever together, it's just like that between us.
Depression and frustration started to punctuate my days, only divided by the moments we shared on the phone where we could forget for a few that our faces were on screens.
If I thought I knew longing at the tender ages where angst and hormones pull us all by the throat, gosh was I mistaken. How do you reconcile yourself with a burning urge to touch the one you love? I wanted to jump out of my skin or explode.
We made a plan to move to Dubai, saved the money and filed the paperwork. The day after he submitted his documents they froze entry permits for Syrians. We began searching the world map again to look over the rules of various countries. We found places we both could go, but all involved him receiving a transit visa to travel to. No dice. Misery.
Of course, he also happened to live in one of the only countries that does not just accept visas from Americans.
We planned to go to Lebanon together; Israel began bombing Beirut before I could fly. Then he put in a request to go to Jordan. You'd think that traveling just a few hours to Amman would be no issue, but even that took bells and whistles.
I found myself infuriated and baffled once again at the difficulties one can face just based on where they are born. I wanted to tear the world apart to change it. Rage filled my bloodstream, an emotion I've done most of my life without.
This time we refused to get excited until we knew anything, the days passed by as we waited for Jordan to run a background check on Yaz. It was as if we had to treat the universe like a cat, ignore it and it will come to you.
And it did, freaking FINALLY!
I immediately bought a plane ticket and got to packing. An ominous feeling hung in the air as I did so though. It had begun to feel like life was trolling us, some part of me just knew flights would get shut down, the Jordan border would get closed to the north due to conflict... Something, something bad would happen again my heart told me. Thank goodness that was not true at all!
I never believed in fate or dramatic love stories before, but I firmly do now. We have talks without words, feel each other even from a distance, understand each other on levels I didn't know two people could. And we met in the most unlikely place, Hive bringing us together across thousands of miles and dozens of difficult circumstances. I'd like to believe that everyone has that person out there, perhaps such treasure just warrants some fight, some faith.
I found my soulmate, the human who feels like they were made just for me. Now maybe I do like love stories. Maybe the kid in me has healed from life's bullshit; burning passion and intense love no longer feel like a fairytale to me. They look like a Tuesday spent half dressed drinking coffee, wandering but no longer lost.