To My Next One

My Symphony: Amsterdam by Coldplay 


(photo source)

There you are. Wiping the sweat off your forehead after another long and torturous day of wondering where I am.

There you are, just sitting there with your signature poker face. You are holding that Humans of New York book that you’ve read from cover to cover for about seven times now. In front of you is a wine glass full of orange juice. You’re not gonna be getting drunk tonight. You’re not gonna be in the club dancing with sixty other strangers and contemplating each soul that’s potentially breathing inside every person in that room whom you find cute. Because tonight, you’re staying in and cooking your own dinner. Tonight, only for tonight, there is no time for any interaction aside from that which you are having with yourself. You’ve decided to just sit there, in front of your overcooked salmon and lukewarm orange juice, and think.

So there you are. Thinking. Not the kind of thinking that you normally do when you answer your major exams, or the thinking that’s required in planning those summer vacations you go to with your friends in spring; it is rather the thinking that you do when you think about love.

There you are. Beautiful as the sunrise. I don’t even understand how someone can be as stunning as you are. I mean I didn’t even know it was possible, but there you are – a breathing, shining proof that somewhere out there lives a higher power. Something that is way larger than any of us earthlings can imagine; something that’s ethereal, superhuman.

There you are. You have said you’ve been single your whole life because none of your past relationships seemed right. There are days when you wonder what love feels like, looks like, smells like. Does it feel the same way the palm trees feel the ocean-catapulted breeze? Does it look like the view of the city from the rooftop of your apartment building? Does it smell anything like green tea and vanilla extract? You do not know. But you wish you did.

There you are. You have gone to at least eight different countries by the age of twenty-four. What are you looking for out there? Nothing, maybe. Maybe you’re just sort of walking around this entire time, subconsciously hoping to finally bump into me. You have spent a significant amount of time with your friends. And they’ve been really good friends to you. They’ve laughed at your jokes, smiled at your happiness and waved at your moments of randomness. They’ve been with you on all those long walks, all those food trips, concerts, live theater performances and sometimes even on Valentine’s Day. And tonight is no different. They’re still the ones that fill your phone inbox. They’re still the ones that flood your Facebook timeline. They’re still the ones that witness your life as it unfolds dramatically. The only difference is that tonight, the unsatisfied longing for the presence of that one person – that one person whom you will love with all your heart – has definitely hit the deadline. You want love, just as much as I do. But the universe has had a funny way of creating two like-minded individuals who are a perfect match, and then putting them so far away from each other.

There you are. Where have you been? It’s actually quite funny. I’m impatiently asking you this when you have every right to ask me the same question. So where have been?

I’ve been here. Not sitting like you are right now, but floating. I’ve been dreaming a lot and sleeping a lot. I’ve been here and there, and I’ve looked for you too many times in too many places. I’ve been in this dozy tourist village that is my bedroom just writing about you, reading about you and thinking about you.

And now here I am. Jaded after all the rollercoaster rides in my life so far. I am bruised and scarred but smiling. Just like you, I had spent the whole day somehow hoping that our paths would finally cross.

Here I am, visualizing the numerous awesome moments we will be making.

Inside my head, here we are. I’ve never felt this special with anyone in my life. I adore the dimples that form on your cheeks each time I smile at you. I adore that. I adore the fact that I can be certain you will always smile back. Because when you smile, your eyes somehow disappear but your joy doesn’t. And I adore that. I adore that we can be foolish and intelligent with each other without having to apologize for anything. I adore that we are so the same yet so different. I adore that you like dogs, Katy Perry and dim lighting. I adore that everytime the wind brushes through your hair, it dances just enough to create the illusion of us hovering above the ground. And everytime I hold your hand, I adore that it fits perfectly. When you’re far away and I see you, it doesn’t take you long to see me; we don’t yell or wave, and sometimes we don’t even smile – we just look at each other as we approach the center point. There’s all this percolating love and passion underneath the calmness. I adore that. I adore that because all those years of trials and errors have led the two of us to this point. And there’s so much inside of us that we can just explode at any given second. But I adore that. I adore the idea that we are now standing face to face like two active volcanoes ready to erupt. And I adore that the eruption would be an eruption of love.

But here I am. And there you are. No amount of thinking and visualizing can realistically put us right next to each other any time soon.

I like to believe that you are out there, Next One. And if you are, I hope that at the very right moment, you will finish that orange juice of yours and take a walk along the beach.

I will be there. And I swear, you will be the Last One.

2 thoughts on “To My Next One

  1. Kenn;

    You always have such a unique slant on things and take us all delightfully along for the ride on your meanderings, inquiries and discoveries.

    You also have the heart and soul of a true romantic – as you certainly well know by now. Whether or not you actually ever encounter Mr. Right, in my mind, is doubtful – so I suggest you place yourself in that very spot of being Mr. Right to yourself – and just get used to it.

    You are the ONLY perfect lover for yourself, and you’d undoubtedly tire of anyone else in fairly short order. I mean, isn’t that what’s happened all along the way to this point in time anyways?

    To me, this whole dream, this soulful search of yours, is simply and most meaningfully the search for your true self – your own deepest reality.

    I certainly don’t intentionally want to be a dream-destroyer – but I might just be more realistic than you at this point. I also don’t want to cast you off into your own aloneness, having to both battle and then handle your unique, deep and challenging reality.

    I also don’t think, in reading this fine essay of yours – that you could ever really settle for second-best, which every Mr. Right eventually becomes.

    Life’s a bitch at best. At worst, who knows? But I bet you’ll discover the answer to that and then share it brilliantly with us, as you always do.

  2. I’ve just returned from a walk in the cold sunshine and was thinking I might have second thoughts about some of the things I wrote above, Kenn.

    I mean, those of us who’ve read your journal here have witnessed the dramatic swing you sometimes make – you both hating someone intensely and then apparently looking again for love just slightly further down the line. The drama-filled roller coaster ride you’ve given yourself this lifetime through.

    But who am I but a crusty old bastard to think you ought not to dream of Mr. Right magically appearing in your life, Kenn? I mean, you’ve already created the scenario inside yourself, in the treasure chest of your soul – and now the universe simply has to build it for you. The majority of the hard work has been done – the dreaming part.

    I too have always kept my eye open for the one for me and at 66, expect I’ll keep doing it until the day I die. But I’ve had other dreams, other goals perhaps more important for me to have materialize – and searching for the love of my life seems to just fill in the pot holes when the main searches are side-lined for whatever reason.

    Who else but you, Kenn – deserves to find the love of your life? And who better to describe the yearning, the expectation, anticipation and the wait for it all to come together? And then the glory, hopefully – when it manifests itself?

    I’ve jilted lovers and been jilted by them – and by unfulfilled desire. You have multitudes more magic than I’ve ever had, Kenn – and need people like me to simply move out of your way as you build EXACTLY the things you want. It’s your life and you’re the best damn dream-maker I could imagine.

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