We all have seen romance movies. The kind of storyline that follows two sounds destined to be together with signals from the universe everywhere around them pushing the pair together.
The question is whether you’re cynical, like me, and think that’s just Hollywood, or whether you’re the hopeless romantic that believes it will happen one day just like the movies.
I’ll tell you now, I think it’s bullshit. I’ve always thought it was bullshit. Sure I’ve been in love before, had both good and bad relationships, but none that felt like it set my entire soul on fire. Nothing to write about.
As prideful as I am, and as hard for me as it is to admit this, I am and have been now, for two years, completely in love with someone I have never met.
Two years ago, this girl started commenting on my Instagram photos at odd hours of the day and night, so after the casual follow for follow was exchanged and I got a look at her, I couldn’t stop being obsessively curious about every single thing about her. She was incredibly talented, besides the fact that I think she’s the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking seen. She’s not someone that fits my so-called type, or that I’m known to be seen with. There’s something different about her, and getting to know her, she’s unlike anything I have ever known.
She would send me a message and when I’d reply, it would take forever to get a response. I took it for disinterest, but then she would reply, at 4 am or some crazy hour that only people like me are still awake at anyway.
I’m a prideful motherfucker, honestly. I won’t chase or pursue. Ever. But I remember vividly one day she was at the beach posting videos of the coast she was at on her Instagram every half hour or so, and I checked her feed about every 90 seconds waiting for an update to try to figure out where the hell she could be located.
I checked the last location and never heard of the beach she was at, but the water was on the right and it looked like Florida to me. Unconsciously I realized later I had already made the decision to chase her down. Florida was a quick flight from Pennsylvania.
I finally caved and asked her where she was from.
I wanted to throw up. This woman couldn’t have possibly been any further away from me in the world.
I started googling flight costs just out of curiosity. Not that bad. I could swing it.
Then I went through talking myself out of it. Why the hell am I even thinking about flying to the other side of the world to meet a stranger? Stupid. Knock it off Shawn.
“I’m going there. Idgaf.”
What started as casual flirting evolved into whatsapp messages, watching the clocks for our time zones to overlap so we could speak to each other. Messages turned into Skype calls, which turned into Skype days, and got to the point where we spent the majority of our time staring at a screen at each other. She’d have a portrait commission, and I’d have photos or video to edit, so we were at our desks on opposite sides of the world working together. Her late nights are my mornings, so we ring each other the minute we wake up, and it’s usually right before the other is most of the way through their day.
It never once occurred to me that this could be unrealistic, not at all. Emotions ran deep immediately, and there was just a connection there I never had with anyone. The nagging in the back of my head, the what if this isn’t really what I think it is, got quieter as the time passed.
That’s the thing though. That’s what started driving me crazy – wondering if I was nuts because everywhere I turned, there seemed to be some sign that I didn’t believe in. And we’d have periods of time where things were rough, we’d not talk as much, and would end up becoming disconnected.
But then there are the signs again. Stronger signals you couldn’t possibly ignore or misinterpret. All telling me to go.
When we reconnect, it’s always the same; like nothing has changed. No love has been lost, and it feels like your entire body is on fire every time you speak.
The bond is intense, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with another person in my life. I question whether it’s my imagination a lot, and then when she speaks to me, I know that I’m not imagining any of it.
We’ve split on and off for almost two years now, and of course there have been other people that happen in between that duration. What’s driving the insanity is during those times, I could be out to dinner with another woman, and the overhead stereo system in the restaurant in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania would suddenly have an Australian dj on the radio show. Or I’d walk into a gas station quick to grab a red bull, and overhear a stranger discussing that they hope they make gay marriage legal in Australia. Or, oh, look at this pear balsamic glaze I found at the store? I’ll have to Google some recipes. Oh? They’re from Australia.
Seems coincidental, but the first thing she ever said to me when it came to her attraction towards me and how her feelings started to develop, was that she was at the beach with her daughter, and was sitting along the rocks. She described the weather vividly, where she was, and that suddenly she thought she could “feel” me. I chuckled to myself, until I realized that the day she was describing was the day I was stalking her Instagram with such ferocity. I never told her that. But she wasn’t lying when she told me she thought she felt me on some sort of vibrational level. Time and again she proved to have this uncanny sense of what was going on with me all the way on the other side of the world, without having to ask.
And I didn’t have to, because those little coincidences and weird things started happening. All the time. If we “broke up,” they’d happen even more. Every sign literally pointing me in the direction of Australia. My roommate linked me to this article about some random legend from 1,000 years ago that discussed this invisible tie between two people that are meant to be together. In the article it mentions that the one of the two fated lovers had been marked by this scar over their eyebrow. I gave it a read, linked her the article, and she laughed, responding with “wait til I show you where I split my eyebrow from face planting a rock.” I sent her the article because I had my eyebrow split open just like the girl in the story. When we sent photos back and forth, to my creeped out astonishment, we had the scar in the same place. Sure, just a coincidence, right?
We finally got off our asses and got our passports situated to be able to start traveling back and forth to one another, and then I was picked up by a concert tour to start shooting and traveling with them. Wanna take a guess where their tour travels? Yeah. You guessed it. I looked up the schedule, and saw that there would be a tour stop in Australia, noted the date, started crossing my fingers they would put me on that show – until the schedule came back and they wanted me in Los Angeles instead. I’m not one to ask for things, so I didn’t. After I shot the next tour stop, my “boss” emailed me asking if I’d like to go to Sydney instead. Of course I said yes. I may be cynical and disbelieving when it comes to “fate” but I do think everything happens for a reason. Obviously this reason is I’m supposed to go.
I’ve had tarot cards read for fun and have seen fortunetellers to kill time, and each have mentioned her or mentioned me leaving to go to her. Which is creepy. Considering she has the same stories from all the way over there. It’s a constant beat down from the universe that bombards my every day life, and gives my own friends that see the so-called “signs” as well.
As of now, my visa application is lodged with the Australian immigration department to go. And we haven’t spoken in weeks. Our last conversation was heartbreaking, confusing, as she pushed me away like she does on occasion when the distance thing gets the better of her. I have cancer, so I think when I start treatment it honestly scares her. We had a fight, and she told me not to come for her, and I thought about that for a moment. Throwing in the towel after two years and just letting go of this fantasy that might not be real after all. But then I think if I don’t sit in the room with her and at least get closure on everything, and confirm that this thing between us will never be all the things we’ve hoped for and talked and planned about – I might actually go crazy.
I’m going. For once in my entire life I’m going to chase something besides my career.
And if it fails, it fails. It’s a huge chance and a lot of risk and no concrete outcome. I might get a door slammed in my face. I may not. But I’m going. I am going to hop a flight and travel 9,773 miles, and ring a doorbell when I get there. If every signal that has been pushing me to go there is right, the existence of soul mates could be proven and that universal what if question could be answered. Because if soul mates exist, she is most definitely mine. And that’s just as exciting as it is utterly terrifying, and I’m not known to be afraid of a single thing.
Wish me luck.