Soulmate or Cellmate?

by Tommy George

Waverly, Iowa. New Years Eve, 2020.  Like most wishes flowing from the romantic heart, the soulmate is yet another emotional delusion that arises when orgasmic sex mixes it up with cool vanity and declares it has found something larger than love or a single life.

Such lovers may become "soulmates," often for long enough to knock out a couple of

kids (have children together). Then their official classification changes to "soulmates-forever." This revised nomenclature often serves as the cornerstone for lifelong commitments insured by the "soulmates-forever guarantee," a protection plan run by gentlefolk with hairy hands.

At some point in their life together, circumstances may demand some add-ons--like legal wedlock, strange new in-laws, more children, returning addictions, large mortgages, and newly discovered personal depravities shared with others outside of the soulmate contract.

These innovative enhancements add layers of new complexity to the soulmate contract. Some mates of the soul develop insomnia, obsessive thinking, and flu-like symptoms due to unremitting thoughts of how deeply, meaningfully, and inextricably bound their life has become to that of their soulmate.

By these latter days, not all soulmates remain conjoined in Paradise. Some have taken a wrong turn or two only to discover that they've run into darkening realms with no exits or gas stations along the soulmate highway. When the vehicle sputters and runs out of gas, they may peer through fogged-up windows at what appears to be an infernal topography--smoldering pyres, hysterical zombies, dogs on fire--and realize that they have become soulmates-forever in Hell. This is not terribly surprising, for by now both have realized that it was Satan, not Santa, who wrote their soulmates-forever guarantee. 

Frequently on this Soulmate Path to Hell couples who stood firmly on both feet for decades learn that soulmates can and do turn into heels, most unexpectedly. You don't hear divorce lawyers talking about soulmates. Heels, yes. Unabashed liars, yes. But soulmates? Never. If I trace the course of soulmating in a negative direction tonight, it is only to console myself for passing my New Year's eve in solitary fashion. 

I call it such, but the only real consolation I have found so far in these lonely realms was one

lonely lady of the evening who performed upon me an act of well-practiced fellatio in exchange for a pack of cigarettes and my last three dollars. She may not be a soulmate, but at least she was not a soul-robber.

Maybe that's what a soulmate truly is in the final analysis--someone you love so much that when you think about them, you want to kill yourself.

T

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