Once upon a time, I was absolutely certain I had met “the one”. THE person. The person you’re supposed to meet and recognize immediately as your soulmate. The yin to your yang, the peanut butter to your jelly, the Jake Ryan to your Samantha Baker (points to anyone who gets that reference).
But you see, the fly in the ointment is that I was wrong. Against all 100% belief on my part, I was still wrong. So that got me thinking on this business about “the one”.
First, I believe in “the one”. Call me a romantic idiot, but I absolutely think that there is one person out there who you’re meant to be with. I’m not saying you couldn’t be happy with other people, but there’s one person out there who is as perfect for you as you are for them. Unfortunately, being wrong once about something I would have literally bet my life on kind of puts things in a harsh perspective.
If I was wrong once, I could be wrong again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. That whole deal.
I think everyone is scared of ending up alone. But I think ending up with the wrong person would probably be worse. Never getting that feeling. Never knowing the way everyone always says “when you meet the right person, you’ll know”. That’s what I used to tell people, so certain of my own feelings – my own belief that I’d found that.
I just wonder if, come the time my real “one” shows up, I’ll trust myself enough to believe the feeling.