My Dearest Princess:
Since I havent been able to find you, still I decided to sit down and write to you this letter.
My darling please forgive me for not using your name, I simply have no idea what it is, you see we havent met yet.
Y'know, it feels strange expressing my deepest personal thoughts to a woman I haven't even seen, but I'm making an exception for you because, after all, we will eventually be together for the rest of our lives.
Plus, just because we haven't been able to locate each other yet, doesn't mean we can't share our feelings, right?
I'll be honest -- this past year has been a difficult one. After many years of not being able to find you, the frustration of the endless searches started to get to me. I started to feel as though I would never meet my soul mate, never meet you. My heart sank. It seemed like I was right on track for turning into the male equivalent of the old spinster with seven cats and a passion only for crocheting sweaters for friends and relatives lucky enough to have found relationships. I felt myself beginning to experience the Seven Stages of No Soul Mate Grief.
First, there was Shock -- the horrifying realization that it's absolutely likely we may never meet. It seemed as though every woman I met had a giant neon NOT YOUR SOUL MATE sign atop her head. That shock ended up driving me to drink. But I'm not big on alcohol, so I'm now attending a 12-Step program for Coffee. One day at a time.
Denial followed shock. All evidence to the contrary, I informed anyone who asked about it, that it was simply a question of time and luck before I'd meet my soul mate. They'd nod and give me a half-smile, attempting to be supportive, but, oh yes, I could see the pity in their eyes. It was the same look they gave Jennifer Aniston after she said she's even happier with fill-in-her-latest-boyfriend-here than she ever was with Brad Pitt. Or that they gave Russell Crowe after he said that was the first time he ever threw a telephone at a concierge's head. They realized I was only fooling myself. I knew they were right, but couldn't admit it, wouldn't admit it. I felt like Nixon telling the nation "I am not a crook," . Was I any different, saying "My soul mate is just around the corner"? No, clearly, I was only fooling myself
As I moved into the Bargaining stage, I attempted to cope with my loss of soul mate hope by making a deal with God. "Lord, if You allow me to meet my soul mate, I'll become a better person. I'll attend church more often, I'll be kinder to people, I'll make donations to charity even if they don't send the cool, self-sticking address labels, I'll stop taking your name in vain when the driver in front of me is too slow to make it through the yellow light, I'll subscribe to PBS. I'll floss."
Of course, the Guilt stage was no big shocker to me, as I was quite experienced in that arena. It took the form of multiple "If onlys." If only I hadn't turned so and so down just because she sounded like a goat when she laughed.
It's no wonder I reached the Anger stage. I was angry at life for forcing me to keep paying monthly fees to online dating websites rather than the much easier and far more economical method of simply accidentally bumping into my soul mate in an elevator or supermarket, with appropriate Phil Collins or Elton John soundtrack music, just like in the movies. I was angry at myself for not having developed whatever relationship skills might turn me into a babe magnet. I was angry at my parents for not having given me the genetic gifts of George Clooney's looks, Bill Gates' intelligence, Fred Astaire's dancing ability, 50 Cent's street cred. Yes, that's right, a Christian guy with 50 Cent's street cred. If we can put a man on the Moon, why couldn't that happen, too?
Depression followed closely upon Anger. Look what you did to me and you didn't even know me. I lost interest in meeting my soul mate, much less dating at all. I sounded as though all the life and energy had been drained from my voice. I slumped. I couldn't even motivate myself to call a depression hotline. And here's how I realized I was truly, deeply depressed -- Starbucks just didn't do it for me anymore. I went for Coke . Coke my darling!, Coke! Do you know how deeply depressed a person has to be to open a can of Coke? The horror. How can Coke executives even sleep at night? But it's all I felt worthy of.
And now my darling the final stage. How did I finally arrive at the last of the Seven Stages of No Soul Mate Grief -- the stage of Acceptance and Hope?
You see I have left it up to my Creator. When its time you will appear. And you will be more beautiful than any sunrise I have ever seen. Your scent will be intoxicating. And you will feel like Heaven in my arms. You will accept me flaws and all just like I will you.... We arent perfect my love but we will be perfectly perfect together...
Your Prince