soulmates & earthquakes

Just be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt. Take things slow.”

Advice from my mother after telling her about The Man. Advice I didn't ask for, but will still respect because, well… she’s my mother.

We'd just finished having dinner with my cousins. Throughout the night I mentioned a few restaurants I’d been to during the past two weeks, which prompted her to ask on the drive home, “Who have you been going out with?”

I told her and she listened. And then she cautioned me repeatedly: “Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I am my mother’s daughter: always worried something will go wrong before it even begins. It is funny how hearing her say the thoughts that have been lingering in my head actually made me defensive. “I can’t be too cautious. Life doesn't work like that, Mom. I’ll be careful but I can’t go through life worried every man will hurt me."

“I know,” she says, and I can sense that she is biting her tongue. She means well. And it feels good knowing she is concerned about my well-being. She’s been there through the countless broken hearts, a steady shoulder to cry on. I’m sure her shoulder is tired by now.

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Despite her desire to protect, I can feel in my bones that The Man and my mother will be soul mates. Not of the romantic sense. That is crazy and gross, and if I had one inkling that were the case, I’d stop this post right here and delete the entire blog. The soul mate business that I speak of is more along the lines of meeting someone who has the potential to fill in a missing piece.

My mother has turned into a doter. I’m not sure if that is a word, but I’m going to roll with it, anyway. Now that she is retired, spending only a few days a week working in the field that she loves, leaves a lot of time for her to do things for me, like shop and cook and be all up in my business. I am an only child and this comes with the territory, but growing up, except for the meddling in my business part, she was not at all like that. Sometimes it's starling when she wants to shove a meal into my hand, or call multiple times a day, or shop for me, or stop by unannounced every weekend. She needs grandchildren, but my womb is closed until further notice, so…

The Man has had a very complicated journey with the women in his life, starting with his own mother. After his parents divorced, her addiction made her distant, and his father became his sole caretaker. Unfortunately, there were no mother surrogates, no aunts or grandmothers, or even a girlfriend of his father to step in and show him a little motherly love. I can hear in his voice how much he craves older female attention. He often speaks fondly of a woman from his past who would see him around the way and simply ask how he was doing. He smiles wide when he speaks of her, and I can picture this woman as my mother, listening to whatever he has to say and checking up on him when she senses something off kilter.

This is where The Man and my mother begin to fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. She will shower him with older church lady love, and he will soak it up and help her change light bulbs around the house and they will laugh at each others corny jokes, and I will eventually become the third wheel, and surprisingly, I will be a-ok with it happening because they will be able to keep each other company when I need my space. WIN-WIN. They will be a match made in Heaven. 

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They met briefly on a fluke the day after my convo with my mom. I’d mistakenly left my credit card with her, and she called to drop it off to me while I was out with The Man running errands. It was a tense but cute moment because neither of them were prepared or ready to meet. Hell, I wasn't ready either, but I needed my credit card. He turned on the nice guy charm, and though she didn't let on in his presence (her left eyebrow was raised during the entire introduction), she told me later that she liked what she saw. She was still cautious, though.

“He’s cute but, be careful. Let him woo you. Forever and ever," she said a few hours later over the phone.

“I will, Mom. I will.”

“He reminds me of your last ex. Sweet guy. Very nice. Wooed you for a long time. You guys were really cute together. And then it went south out of nowhere... I don’t want that to happen to you again. I’m serious when I say to let him woo you forever.”

When we get off the phone, I think about her words. My last heartbreak was one of those things that could not be avoided. There weren't any signs, red flags, or warnings that we would end, that he wasn't The One, that we weren't headed toward a happy ending. Like an earthquake, it ended quick and rocky with everything jumbled up and falling, toppled concrete and dust left behind. Took a long time to clean up the destruction.

But just like earthquakes, very rarely does heartbreak occur in the same way, in the same place, at the same time back to back. I don’t think I’m destined to experience that kind of hurt more than once. I've learned what needed to be learned, and have moved on, and hopefully new experiences dot the horizon. I may have been a scaredy cat because my prior relationship split my foundation in half, but I am recognizing that there is no point in rebuilding if I plan on keeping my heart chained up behind a chain link fence. Plus, love without risk isn't fun at all.

“You and your mom are a bunch of firecrackers, aren't you?” he asks the next time I see him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. It’s cute though.”

He squints and smirks and pecks me on the cheek, and it dawns on me that whatever is going on between us was meant to be. That this experience will make me more of who I already am and add to the pieces of me that aren't yet fully formed. That whether he woos me forever, or stops talking to me next week, I will grow from it, and I will be OK.

You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Mom.