Deciding not to date my soul mate.

Are things heating up between me and #38 again? If this time gets my heart broken, it’s not going to be pretty. 
 
 Below is the breakup letter I emailed him a month ago. We didn’t go on very many dates before we faced the truth that we are not compatible. He wants to have kids and be monogamous. I want neither of those. So… we tried to break up before our relationship got too deep.
 
 But this is one of those special connections where everything’s deep, from the very start. We couldn’t help it. Its the kind of connection where every touch and every word makes you realize that this person is capable of knowing you to the depths of your soul. When you lie down on the bed together, and have to stop making out because you’re both giggling so hard, because being together fills you with such a pure happiness and feels just like home. Even though you thought that home was just a dream, a distant memory, but all of a sudden home is here in the flesh, staring into your eyes as you melt under his touch. 
 
 — — — — — — — — — — — —

This song kinda hit me sideways.
 
 Ramblin’ Woman by Hazel & Alice. (It’s not on Youtube or any lyrics site, but I found an iTunes music link: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/ramblin-woman/id1089331921?i=1089332054&app=music&upsell=true&ign-mpt=uo%3D5)
 
 It’s similar to the situation with you and me, but with one major difference. The singer in the song is a “ramblin woman” instead of a “home-lovin woman.” But I’m actually on the other side of the spectrum from her.
 
 I’m not a rambler. I don’t travel cuz I want to, I travel because it’s part of my mission. I don’t move from city to city because I like it — I move because I’m looking for home.
 
 But I’m not that normal home-making kid-having woman either. I’m even more extreme. And I’m a systems thinker.
 
 I don’t just want to create a good home for me and mine — I want to shape the entire community I live in. I want to invoke “home” in the hearts of many.
 
 And I don’t want to just nurture a handful of kids. There are plenty of people well capable of doing that, and I’m happy to leave it in their hands. Nah, I’d rather nurture the whole freaking world.
 
 On the drive back from our gig on Monday, my bandmate and I were talking about how being a musician is a spiritual path, in many ways.
 
 I started thinking about priests and priestesses, nuns and monks and holy people — in many (but not all) traditions they are celibate. It’s true that one reason for this is to guard their energy, or redirect their sexual energy for other purposes.
 
 But I realized another major reason is so that they won’t have children. It’s impossible to fully dedicate yourself to the service of your community (or diety or spiritual practice) if you have kids. If you have children, you dedicate yourself to your children.
 
 Myself, maybe I’m more of a priestess. A modern one — I don’t need celibacy cuz I have condoms.
 
 Several months ago, I created a spreadsheet of everyone I’ve hooked up with, ever. (The current tally is 39 total, and 23 scored a home run.)
 
 I just read through the names of everyone from the past 3 years, since I came to Vancouver.
 
 There were 21 connections, most of which fizzled out pretty quick. But several of them stand out to me now, when I look through this lens.
 
 Five, including you, I really liked, and we dated for a short time. But then one of us would break it off, knowing that it wouldn’t work long-term. They all wanted to be dads. One of them was already a dad. Apparently I like dads. Actually I really like dads.
 
 One of them was a rambler — I was head over heels for him, but he moved quickly on from me, found a traveler girlfriend and buggered off to everywhere but here.
 
 One became a priest. Someone very dear to me. But even the strength of his love for me couldn’t stop him from following his spiritual path. Now that I think of it, maybe that’s why we understood each other so well — we’re both community-givers.

There were a few other community-giver types as well. 
 
 In terms of primary and nesting partership — maybe I should be looking for someone more like that. They’re very rare.
 
 As I write this, my brain constantly looks for ways to wiggle out of this pigeonhole I’m drawing myself. It’s not an easy path. I don’t want to wait around for the rarest of lovers. I don’t want to accept the fact that I have done, and likely will continue to travel much of life’s journey alone. I just crave [#38]’s lips and arms around me now.
 
 All things considered, #38, you’re the best match I’ve ever found. But, just like I’ve done with so many others — I’ll let you go.
 
 And it’s not just you I’m letting go of. I’m letting go of the option to start a family. If I wanted to do it… this would be the time, the place, the dad. It’s the ideal situation. So if I say no to this, then that’s it. 
 
 Now I know why I pulled that “Intuition” card from your fairy deck. Although this is a big decision, my intuition guides me with 100% clarity. 
 
 Mamma mia, O love… At least by now, I’ve learned how to welcome pain. I let it wash through and it touches me deeply. And I’ve learned how to guide the feelings in my own heart. After 3 days, and a good deal of writing, I weathered the storm easily enough and I’m ready to be your loving friend. 
 
 —PeachPit_

He sent a nice letter back me. Here’s an excerpt from it:

“Sometimes I think we delude ourselves into thinking we are alone, or delude ourselves into thinking we are connected. Both are true. We are both forever alone and forever connected.”

A few days later, I got this message out of nowhere from my old lover #6. Creepy, eh?

I had a dream last night that you had a kid. And you didn’t want him anymore. So you killed him.

So, there it is. Love sucks. Over and out.