Soul-Craving

I am 26 years old. In a little more than a month, I'll be 27. By then, I will have spent all 27 years of my life single.

In the last two days, I've been feeling this ache in my chest. It's a familiar sensation, but it's more intense now than ever before. I feel it somewhere in my diaphragm and radiating to my womb. The pain of hollowness.

I don't enjoy being single very much. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that it's better that I'm still trying to figure my self out; that I probably should achieve self-realization rather than be like Bella Swan and never feel whole without a partner; I can never fight off this terrifyingly physical pain or the thoughts that come with it—not permanently. I always feel the twinge of envy when I see couples shamelessly sharing affection in public; or when people tell their friends about their significant other.

Alas, I have never felt a man's lips against my skin; nor his hand upon my waist or shoulder. I have never had a man gaze upon me with desire. I have never been someone to make a man feel whole and at peace.

The pain rises to my throat now, closing it up until I can barely breathe. It squeezes tears from my eyes. I wish this were some exaggerated imagery from a nu rock song from my adolescent years. But no, there's no way I could be imagining it. Twice now, I have caught myself moaning in agony; and crying out in one occasion. It was the same noise I made when I was suffering from the swollen gall bladder threatening to spill its toxic contents into my abdominal cavity. But that pain was made bearable by doctors who can fix it, which they did.

No one can fix the pain I'm having now. I tried, but my efforts have made it worse somehow.

I've been afraid to put this online because there will be feminists and misandrists who will invalidate my anguish by saying I don't need a man to fulfill my needs; that it's somehow wrong to feel this way, to yearn for a man; or worse, that the pursuit for romance isn't worth the effort because any and all relationships have a potential for heartbreak. They will say that I ought to be adequately satisfied with having a great career, which I do. If that were the case, I shouldn't be feeling this pain.

Yungian psychologist and gender studies expert Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D has a word for it: soul-craving. Something real and intangible at the same time, soul-craving can be described as an intense and deep longing that you can practically feel in your bones that you gotta have whatever it is.

When I was a little girl, I would watch TV romances depicting a teenage boy visiting a house, asking his potential partner's parents' permission to court her. My parents have met that way. And so did many of their peers. So, I imagined a boy coming for me and we would enjoy a wondrous courtship of at least two years and decide to get married.

In today's social climate, I understand how traditional courtship isn't as universal as it once was. Even young men have to pursue self-actualization.

Nowadays, courtship is something only teenage boys do anymore because they're the ones with more time and money to spend it on. When I eventually became involved with my career, I entertained the notion of meeting someone by chance and hitting it off right away. Even as I commute every day because I'm too short to reach the car pedals, it hasn't happened yet. And I'm beginning to fear that it never will.

I don't understand why it hasn't happened for me yet. I had told myself that I would be ready for a boyfriend by 16; 10 years later, boyfriends have come and gone for most people my age and the closest thing I got was a pervert taxi driver who doesn't take no for an answer. Many of my peers have even married and had children. I had thought I would do the same by 25.

I know I shouldn't be treating life like a race; I have read enough pseudo-feminist articles to get it through me. But the ache of longing and loneliness is still there, chewing me from the inside out.

Many single people comfort themselves in having broken up with the "wrong person" so they would eventually meet the right one. They have experienced love and loss and treat it as a learning experience, so they know what to do and what not to do with a new partner. I have no idea what that's even like. I've even become afraid of eventually entering a relationship. At my age and what I'm feeling now, I would be less likely to be willing to break up with somebody, so what if I do experience heartbreak? Would I know what to do afterwards?

A rom-com gets lauded for being relatable and I feel like a child being taught what being on the moon feels like. I might be able to imagine it, but I wouldn't know it for myself. And for almost 27 years, imagining was all I've ever done.

I have written many stories about finding love that lasts. I base them not from experience but from learning online what a healthy relationship should be like. I'm starting to think that's really pathetic. I write of people kissing and making love; I've never even had a man look at me with desire and ask for my name. What's even more pathetic is that my more experienced friend tells me I make an accurate depiction of romance.

If I know eros so well, mustn't I have had my turn by now? I like to believe that God has reserved that one special person for me; the one who would fit just right; the one He Himself would present to me, when the time comes. If he's out there, is he so far away that I can't reach him where I am? Is he looking for me? Does he hurt and cry like I do?

If we were to come across each other, would we know it? Would either of us stop and say hi? Would we finally experience comfort in each other's presence? Would we still fall into the common shortcomings of relationships like unfounded jealousy? Would we rise above that and be happy?

I'm probably looking too far into a relationship that doesn't exist. I haven't even seen his face.