Unlike some people, I was lucky enough to meet my soulmate early on. We hit it off right away: we liked the same things, we pretty much had the same outlook in life (although we didn’t necessarily agree on everything), and we had that magical spark that some people only dream of.
Our relationship was built on friendship, and it was beautiful. We finished each other’s sentences, the works. Everything was just perfect when I’m around with him. We can literally spend hours hanging out, and I would always have the time of my life. Merely talking to him about the littlest things would be the highlight of my day.
And it wasn’t just limited to hanging out, either. He’s a good friend through and through–I know I can count on him whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on, and he always humored me whenever I was feeling insecure. He was there for me when I had to go through a dark period in my life, and he always checked up on me to make sure I was okay. He was my crutch.
I knew there was something there. We were friends, of course, but we were both aware that we would also steal glances at each other whenever we felt the other wasn’t looking. There was one moment of drunken stupidity where our hands momentarily touched. It was electrical and uninhibited, and I knew then that we both had feelings for each other that we couldn’t voice out. We puked those feelings out eventually, and that was the end of it.
He was set to be married a couple of weeks after that, and I couldn’t take it upon myself to wreck everything that he had. I knew he loved his girlfriend of several years–she was pretty and nice and perfect, and she gave him the fairy tale life that he has always wanted. I, on the other hand, am crooked and broken. I have commitment issues, and I could be a total wreck when things go really bad. I couldn’t provide the life he wanted, and I knew she could give you all the love and stability he needs to be content.
Besides, it’s not like we ever made a move, anyway, at least, save for that drunken night. I couldn’t risk turning him into a cheater, and the timing was never right.
Either I was in a relationship, or he was, and that was it. For a time, I was content with that.
But, love–and all the crazy feelings that come with it–is a funny thing. Now that he’s married, things are different. I cannot call him at two in the morning for a pep talk like I used to. He no longer steals glances at me, like he used to before. He has finally moved on, and that hurt a lot. It was pain unlike I’ve ever experienced, and I wanted to get over it as soon as possible.
But it didn’t. It’s still there. It’s like several different layers of pain–knowing we can’t be together and knowing that he’s over me–all in one blow, and it hurts so much.
I am still trying to get over him. I still cry myself to sleep at night, going through things that I should’ve done. We had our chance, and I guess we really weren’t meant to be. That hurts more than anything. On the other hand, I am also grateful to have felt that spark, even just for a little while. He’s my soulmate–and he was the one who got away.