There is a constant force in this world, to which I strongly believe is the sole reason we long for our soul mate. A social pull, if you will, that determines 99.9% of relationships. Gone are the days where you were married to a man of your father's choice, expected to raise his sons and let him marry off your daughters. Love no longer means financial security, kinship or treaty. We don't trade or barter for love, it is not learned over the length of a marriage and it is not forced onto the unwilling. In the modern world, love is a variable only you have the power to control. Is it an X, or Y? A man or a woman? Is he older or young? Is she shorter or taller?
In this world, it's all up to you. Now, am I the only person in this world who finds today's meaning of love completely daunting?
I digress…
Think of it from my, slightly terrified point of view. There are billions of people in this world, and the general consensus seems to be there is one person out there that is perfect for little old me. Did you know the odds of contracting polio, syphilis, cancer and AIDs in a single year are far greater than winning the lottery?
So my point? How am I, one human being in this world with no extraordinary talents or even a 6th sense, supposed to find true love?
Would you believe me if I said I got lucky? After this schpeel I bet you'd think I'm insane for saying such a thing. To top it all off, what if I told you I spent almost every second of the time I knew her bullying her viciously? Because, as we all know, if you do manage to hit the lottery and find your "one", chances are you're A; not going to realize it, or B; you'll through it away. Well, I realized it alright, and I bullied her right into someone else's arms.
I know how to stop a wedding from proceeding though! Figured that one out when I got hit by a truck. See, no sensible girl would have the heart to tie the knot once they have found out you have been temporarily paralyzed from the waist down, while on your way to their wedding. It's a female thing, I think.
Once you get better, and the casts come off and your feet start to wiggle, the focus becomes less about you and recovery and back on said wedding. Which I'm currently at. Right… now…
"Aren't you going to do something about this?" Santana whispers harshly to me. Why Rachel made her on the brides maids is beyond me…
"Like what, S?"
"Um… I don't know… call a mac-truck to bulldoze this shame of a wedding? Worked last time."
She's right, it did. But that doesn't make it funny.
"Really, San? She wants to marry Finn, I've told her she shouldn't like… a thousand times. She isn't going to listen to me. Not like I'd deserve it anyways…"
What? I don't!
"Q, FYI you wanted to marry Finnessa at one point too. Please, I'm begging you to do something."
"It's not worth ruining the tentative friendship we've been working at. She only just accepted my friend request on Facebook! I'm not in the best position to stop this from happening right now!"
"Well, I sure as hell can't say anything, though I think I might throw-up if they start making Googley-eyes at each other…"
I can't help but smirk at the thought of Santana, my best friend, ruining my soul mates wedding buy ralfing all over the groom's tux. If I just keep my thoughts on this particular outcome, maybe I'll be able to make it out of here with my dignity intact.
Maybe.
"I told you, you should have done something…" I hear Santana sing-song into my ear.
"Yeah, just like I told you to drop the closet act when Britts told you she loved you, right? Oh wait, you didn't. Bummer!" There are some things I hate about my best friend, like when she's right and she knows it. But two can play that game…
"Britts isn't my soul mate, she's my first love. Completely different. Plus! If Rachel really is your soul mate, then you just did her an injustice my letting her marry Frankenteen and not you. Now she's settling for her first love. Not her soul mate."
Did I mention that I hate it when she's right? Well, I do.
"Let's just get this after party over with…" I grumble. I don't want to be here. I don't want to sit here watching the love of my life dance with her husband, god that makes me shiver, and eat cake from his face and moon all over him. We all know how this ends; we have seen the movies. She goes off to Cleveland for her sham of a honeymoon, where he proceeds to fill her with his tiny pork sword, probably without a condom on, and I sit in the reception halls' bathroom crying my eyes out. So, I say again, I don't want to be here.
The music is alright. Another glee wedding! Rachel has been bugging me to sing something to "Her and her new husband" for an hour now, and I have finally downed enough vodka to say yes.
The lighting is terrible, and the band is getting bored so when I take the small stage, stumbling a bit up the steps, I know not many people an interested in what I have to say.
"Rachel, this was a terrible mistake. And I still can't believe you went through with it. I'm not singing to the happy couple…" well, it looks like I have their attention now. "I'm only singing to you."
The slow strumming begins behind me and my body sways back and forth to the triple count rhythm. One, two, three… one, two, three…
She looks confused right now, like she has no idea why I have chosen this song.
"When I was younger I saw, my daddy cry and curse at the wind."
I grip the stand for a bit more support.
"He broke his own heart and I watched, as he tried to reassemble it.
And my momma swore that she would, never let, herself forget."
I cast a glance at my mother, tears forming in her eyes, because honestly, this song hits so close to home for us there is no way to hold back tears.
"And that was the day that I promised, I'd never sing of love, if it does not exist.
But darling, you are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception."
Rachel's face has gone from confusion, to anger and I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm singing to her husband.
Carefully I pull the mic from its hold, and make my way to the happy couple.
"Maybe I know somewhere, deep in my soul that love never lasts."
I can see Santana smiling at me. I guess she's glad I'm taking this risk, even if its two hours too late.
"And we've got to find other ways, to make it alone, but keep a straight face.
And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance."
I approach the girl of my dreams, my songstress at her table and look her dead in the eyes, cupping her cheek.
"And up until now I have sworn to myself that I'm content, with loneliness…
Because none of it was ever worth the risk!
But you are the only exception."
I grab her hand and pull her up to me. Finns face contorts to look as though he is fighting off gas pains.
"You are the only exception."
I'm looking so deep into her eyes I'm getting lost. As I close the distance between us I can see a glint of understanding behind her confused shade of brown.
"You are the only exception.
You are the only exception!"
I try my luck and drag her away from her table, away from her husband and onto the dance floor.
"I've got a tight grip on reality but I can't,
Let go of what's in front of me here!"
I'm cupping her face again and she seems lost. Whether it's in the music, or my eyes or her own thoughts I can't discern but I desperately try to guide her back.
"I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up.
Leave me with some kind of proof you're not a dream, whoooooooah!"
I've brought our foreheads together and we begin to sway back and forth. She's so close… I've never been this close to her before.
"You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception!"
I let Santana Britney and Tina take over singing chorus and pull the mic from my lips.
"I love you, Rachel. I always have, and always will. If you ever feel even just the slightest bit for me, come find me. I will always be there, waiting."
"You are the only exception, and I'm on my way to believing."
I sing, only for her ears.
"Oh, and I'm on my way to believing."
The band plays the last note, and the room is silent.
"Find me." I whisper onto her lips, and I can see she is still in a state of shock and awe.
It's when I hear the first person cough that I know I need to get out of here; out of this room, out of this town and far away from this state. I run to the firehouse exit and Santana's already waiting for me with my purse and a cab.
"Thank you, San." I mutter out, rushing into the vehicle and wiping away fresh tears.
"Lima airport!" she calls to the driver.
"I have some clothes packed for us for the next couple of days. Judy's shipping all our shit tomorrow morning, okay?" she asks softly, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.
"Mhmm… I just want to sleep…" I mumble. Worst. Night. Ever.
So... should I continue this? I have a pretty good idea where I'd like this to go so let me know. :)
