There is a man out there who is for me. Soul mates is not a fantasy. Say what you will, relentlessly practical people of the world, there would not be so much written and painted and said and sung about true love if it was all merely the mechanism of someone’s mind whirring away. It is real. And since it is a vital, inextricable part of me, one I can neither change nor expel, the Secret must work with it. I want a soul mate, I have only ever envisioned it, it must be my reality. As within, so without. If I was a person who expected only to find a compatible partner with whom I could be happy for the rest of my life, then that would come to me. But there is nothing wrong with wanting passion and wonder that doesn’t age.
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I want it. It is the desire of my heart. The law of attraction dictates I should be able to attract that which I want and focus on with all my heart. The Bible says God will grant you the desire of your heart, and it is only a true desire of your heart that warrants such stamina and energy. So here is the desire of my heart. All of it, unabridged:
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I am drawing my lover to me. He is here, right now, on earth, being readied as I am. His soul is hearing my unending siren song and he finds himself inexplicably drawn in a certain direction. When I meet him, however it is supposed to happen, he will see me and the lines of me, the look in my eyes, the sound of my voice, something, something will compel him to stay, to draw closer. It will not be long before he knows he wants to see me again. I will be in his thoughts, and he will be such a man to make me comfortable with that prospect. I will draw him in, but he will fill me with a sense of comfort and safety. I will want him to think on me. I will want him to call me. And he will be confident and creative enough that he will decide where we go on a date. I don’t have to lift a finger. I won’t need to manage him or us. And he will take me on interesting, creative, fun, unusual dates.
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When we’re together, the gates break open and we never lack for topics to discuss. We will have rich, interesting conversations. He will make me feel delicate and beautiful. And he will make me want to touch him. The physical line blurs into a non-issue. I will be so comfortable with him that I can focus on how nice it is for me to touch and be touched, and not what signal I’m sending out or how he will interpret it. This man will be so easy to be with. The entire time I’m with him, I will be easy and happy and not realize until after it’s over that I never had a single anxious, analytical thought. I don’t have to worry about impressing him and more importantly, he never gives me the impression that he is trying too hard to impress me. I will always get the vibe that he is more natural, confident, and easy-going than any man I’ve known and I am impressed without undue effort on his part. He can just be himself with me. We truly are like old friends.
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And when that time comes when he kisses me, it will be wonderful. Because he is at last the right one for me, my perfect match, that first kiss will be a species apart from other kisses and touches. My heart will soar, and my brain will light up the understanding – so this is what it’s supposed to be like. This is what centuries of poems and songs have been clamoring about. I will finally understand. He will finally make me feel.
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That will be the sign that he is the One: he makes me feel. All those years feeling like I’m stuck behind a glass wall will be done. All my murky numbness that made me wonder so many times if there was something wrong with me will dissolve. And all the passion I knew was in me, locked up and dormant, frustrated with no outlet, will finally come out. And his touches, from the first innocent hand holding mine, will finally warm me, will thaw out the frozen desire no man had ever been able to crack. It will seem to my dazed mind that all the romance novels have suddenly spilled into reality. All those goofy, ridiculous thoughts that no woman nowadays would ever dare to admit, even to herself, will be proven to have had a purpose. He will make me feel all these things. I will feel a little shaken at the utter destruction of thirty years of stillness, boulders thrown into a virgin pond, ripples curling outward where there had never been movement. And above all other thoughts and wonderings and considerations will be the wonder that it all feels so natural. I will want to see him again, no awkwardness or questioning to be done. It will strike me as so easy. Why would it be otherwise – the clicking together of two pieces? It would only ever bring a sigh of relief, an unclenching, to have finally the other half of me that would make me whole. No other man could have given me that. But this one. This one’s special.
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