Soulmates being a thing did not universally mark the end of complicated romance, but by all estimates it did give complicated romance a terminal illness with a life expectancy of about two years. For now however the world was divided into two camps: ‘This is everything I ever wanted’ and ‘My life has fallen apart’. The first group was pretty much everyone who was single or who hadn’t yet put so much into a relationship that leaving it was a nightmare. The second group was basically anyone who shared a bank account, for the elderly especially I imagine it was a kick in the teeth. Divorce lawyer’s I suspected were a mixed bag, brilliant for a year or two but then no work ever again. Religion and the right I’m sure was a complete mess, but I wasn’t religious and whatever resolution they came to would probably be awful. I knew to stay well clear, I’d been on twitter before. At least the age of consent or adulthood had now functionally been declared by the universe as ‘just before your 18th birthday’.

By all accounts I should have been in the ‘This is everything I ever wanted’ camp, I was young, single and god had just irrefutably validated my sexuality. Fuck you mum by the way. And then I met him. James. Just his name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. In the two weeks since our encounter he has made me angry non-stop and I haven’t even spoken to him! You’d think an empathetic link would be a good thing but let me tell you it is shit if the person you are linked to is anxious, sad or both at all hours of the day. The only saving grace of his anxiety is that the sad puppy vibes are too strong for me to be angry at him specifically, the world at large remains the victim of my ire. And mum.

Mum, irritatingly, took to her soulmate like a fish to water and it’s so nearly beautifully romantic. While Dad has fucked off to Italy to find his soulmate and has called me only once and only to read his damn post. Mum meanwhile found her soulmate in an alley in London and has rescued him from homelessness and into our house, more specifically, into her bed. This would be delightful and cute and whatever, except that he’s another homophobe, because of course.

So I’m home, it’s the start of summer and all I have for company is two homophobes who I cannot argue with like I really want to, because for some fucking reason my soulmate is a man! I tried, just once, meeting up with friends. My usual group of five just hanging out at the park, like usual. Or so I thought. But ‘usual’ died two weeks ago. I arrived at the park to see my four best friends all with new boyfriends and one new girlfriend and all in varying states of making out on laps and the usual shit eighteen year olds in love do. The shit I wanted to do. And apparently bringing along my soulmate was ‘the obvious thing to do’ and ‘how could we stand to be apart?’ It made me want to claw my eyes out and did actually make me storm off, I’m sure they assumed to, my soulmate. Urghh.

So, I was now the one single friend in the group and it seems that I might remain that way, forever. I really wanted to vent about it but all my normal venting buddies had joined the lovey-dovey brigade and I wanted no part of that, especially not if a friend’s uninvited, unwelcome soulmate might turn up to offer support. What I needed was a therapist, but getting one would involve either money I didn’t have or talking to my mother which was definitely not on the cards.

Distracting myself with the news did not help either, not like I should have expected anything different. Religion was on fire and every conspiracy nut had simultaneously declared themselves as ‘right all along’. There was a whole slew of beautiful love stories from all across the world. Strong statistical evidence showed that being with your soulmate straight up made you healthier. Every news story either made me angry because it was terrible or angry because it was great but I wasn’t part of it.

I had no one to talk to and still that anxious little whine droned in the background of my mind. Well, at least someone was more miserable than me. Oh… maybe I did have someone to talk to? At worst I could vent and he would get it, at best maybe I could help tone down his anxiety a little, just for my peace of mind.

I could tell that James was in the same boat as me, feeling totally isolated, because he picked up within literally five seconds of me starting the call. I think he only took that long because of a presumably phone related spike of anxiety that should have been entirely unsurprising.

“P-please don’t be angry, I’m really sorry…” He came across just wimpery enough to frustrate more so than feel sorry for him. He also didn’t make any sense.

“What? What are you even apologising for?”

“Well umm… I don't really know? You’re just angry all the time so uh, that I guess… maybe” I was already beginning to suspect that sentences with James featured a lot of trailing of listlessly.

“Anger you’re gonna have to deal with, the world is particularly frustrating right now, I’m going to be angry at it. So either, deal with that or find a cute girl to replace you as my soulmate. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not angry yourself.”

His reply was about eighty percent mumble, all I could decipher was “my fault anyway.”

“James, two things. One, we need to work on your self esteem and anxiety. Two, nothing about this is your fault” I could feel that he didn’t believe me before he even answered.

“It kinda is though. I’m just shit, okay? If I was just better, I’d pull myself together and stop being a piece of shit and this would all work out.” Well, he’d now reached sad and angry rather than sad and anxious, but none of this was the venting I’d called him for. 

This phone call was going terribly, he wasn’t even making sense. “Dude, you’re not shit. Also please explain how you think being ‘better’ would make my being single forever ‘all work out’.” Oh god, why did I say that of all things, was I just a bitchy person? I really needed to apologise, what do I even say?

I lost the race to find words. “I don’t know how I’d be better. Maybe if I was a girl instead this’d all be fine, but no I’m shitty ole me.”

This conversation was getting away from me, he was back to just sad and I have no idea what he said. Doing my best therapist impression I tried to calm him down a little. “Hey, hey, you’re not shit and no, you can’t just cure depression via sheer force of will, but you can cure it. I’m sorry for being pissy, it’s just.. It’s been a week. I’m not a therapist,  you may have noticed. But you should find one. Until then I suspect a friend who literally knows how you feel may be the next best thing.”

“I uh.. Thanks Ria, I’ll think about it. I’m a mess and probably need to sleep or cry or something. I’ll call you though or message you maybe? If that’s okay… My surname is Cleary, if you wanna add me on facebook or something? I also have a ps4 if you aren’t wildly anti-video games.”

“I’ll send you a friend request, just don’t laugh when you get it okay? Also wow, clearly soulmates extends to console choice! Not this evening but yeah, I’m down for alien shooting or something! Night James, speak soon!”

Context, it turns out, can do a lot for how you feel. My seething fury from earlier was starting to look a lot more like me just being grumpy. Things really weren’t any worse than before I learned I had a soulmate, I was just bitter. James meanwhile was really not doing great, he was very obviously really depressed, which I suppose I should have worked out from the constant anxiety he has. I knew how he felt though, so maybe I could help? That conversation just proved that he really needed some help.

I ran back through the conversation in my mind, and encountered a half remembered sentence. Had James said it’d be better if he was a girl? Was this just wishful thinking? Thinking back he hadn’t quite said it but he basically had! A lot of pieces clicked into place. Was James depressed or was he struggling with dysphoria? Did James have bad anxiety or was he just approaching everyday as someone other than himself? Oh shit, pronouns… what should I use? She wasn’t out to me yet, or herself even? Maybe she’d settle on they... I could date a they though! Or a she! Romance was back on the cards! Fuck you mum!

It was easy to be excited when my options had changed from ‘single forever’ to ‘be with your soulmate eventually’. I just had a few hurdles to cross first. Namely I needed James, or whatever their actual name may be, to work it out too. Unfortunately, I don’t think this sort of realisation is something you can just tell a person, at least not without risking backlash and upset. No, I just needed to trick probably-not-James into epiphany. I could lead a trans-person to water but I probably should not make them drink. Maybe I could drag them clothes shopping and ask them about dresses or whatever until gayness overwhelmed them. That was a stupid plan, I’d think of something better and do whatever that better idea was.

Maybe I’d test the waters first, just to be sure. You know, see if they always pick female video characters, or umm… what else could be a giveaway? A quick, by which I mean 3 hour, reddit browse gave me a whole list of things to look out for! Did they always wear baggy clothing? Had one particular runescape quest really stuck in their memory? Were they just all in on escapism via roleplaying or something like it? Did they think they were fetishizing lesbians when they were really just jealous? I would work out and failing that, bully them into dress shopping or letting me ‘practice’ makeup on them. 

Still, the plan was simple enough. Hatch the egg, help them with whatever transitioning they wanted, and then frolic in lesbian paradise! If we were lucky we might even fix their depression somewhere along the way? How hard could it be?