I'm at a party and a pretty girl asks me what my type is.
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I'm at a party and a pretty girl asks me what my type is.
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I'm at a party and a pretty girl asks me what my type is.
"Beautiful. Kind. Caring."
"Which is what any man with half a brain would say."
Guilty.
The truth is, I don't know until I meet her. I want something familiar. Like I've met her before, somewhere I can't place. Sounds crazy to say out loud -- so I don't. But there's a story from Greek mythology that might explain this feeling.
Once upon a time, humans weren't born separate from one another. We were born wrapped around each other -- two people fused into one whole. We had eight limbs -- four arms, four legs -- and two faces that looked out in opposite directions.
When we didn't want to walk, we'd spread our limbs and cartwheel at incredible speed, tumbling recklessly across the ground. That recklessness gave us a kind of courage, which swelled into pride, then arrogance. Eventually, we decided we were greater than the gods.
So we stormed Mount Olympus and tried to take the heavens.
The gods struck back. Furious, Zeus hurled down lightning and sliced everyone in two -- two perfect halves. He then ordered Apollo to rotate our heads to face the wound, a permanent reminder of our arrogance. Couples who had been bound together were now torn apart -- alone, desperate, losing the will to live.
Finally, Zeus took pity on us and made repairs. He had Apollo pull our skin taut around the belly to keep us alive, then tie it into a knot -- the belly button. But more than that, we were left with a memory -- a longing for the other half we'd lost. That longing runs so deep that we'll go to almost any length to find our other half.
When we finally meet our match, the story goes, we feel it instantly. We get swept up in a love so deep we never want to let go. And if you ask them why, they can't explain it.
They just know.
I used to think that was just a story. Then I thought about every relationship that never quite felt like the one.
I never answered her question. I want someone familiar. A matching wound -- trying to find her way home too.
"Beautiful. Kind. Caring."
"Which is what any man with half a brain would say."
Guilty.
The truth is, I don't know until I meet her. I want something familiar. Like I've met her before, somewhere I can't place. Sounds crazy to say out loud -- so I don't. But there's a story from Greek mythology that might explain this feeling.
Once upon a time, humans weren't born separate from one another. We were born wrapped around each other -- two people fused into one whole. We had eight limbs -- four arms, four legs -- and two faces that looked out in opposite directions.
When we didn't want to walk, we'd spread our limbs and cartwheel at incredible speed, tumbling recklessly across the ground. That recklessness gave us a kind of courage, which swelled into pride, then arrogance. Eventually, we decided we were greater than the gods.
So we stormed Mount Olympus and tried to take the heavens.
The gods struck back. Furious, Zeus hurled down lightning and sliced everyone in two -- two perfect halves. He then ordered Apollo to rotate our heads to face the wound, a permanent reminder of our arrogance. Couples who had been bound together were now torn apart -- alone, desperate, losing the will to live.
Finally, Zeus took pity on us and made repairs. He had Apollo pull our skin taut around the belly to keep us alive, then tie it into a knot -- the belly button. But more than that, we were left with a memory -- a longing for the other half we'd lost. That longing runs so deep that we'll go to almost any length to find our other half.
When we finally meet our match, the story goes, we feel it instantly. We get swept up in a love so deep we never want to let go. And if you ask them why, they can't explain it.
They just know.
I used to think that was just a story. Then I thought about every relationship that never quite felt like the one.
I never answered her question. I want someone familiar. A matching wound -- trying to find her way home too.
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