Perhaps not where you’re looking for them

By Regine Rauin | When Rooms Tell Stories

I recently did something rather strange.

I went to an event because I thought I might meet a man.

And then I completely forgot about the man.

Which, as it turns out, was probably an excellent beginning.

Normally, looking for someone works something like this:

“Is he there?”

No.

“What about him?”

Possibly.

“Has he seen me?”

No idea.

“Why is he standing over there?”

No idea.

“Perhaps I should…”

Stop.

I was at a summer party.

And not because there might theoretically be men there.

I went because I actually wanted to be there.

There was art.

Live music.

Food.

Drinks.

An exhibition.

People.

And eventually even a drag show.

It was loud, colourful, lively and rather wonderful.

And at some point I realised:

I had completely forgotten that I was supposedly there to meet someone.

 

That was new.

Because this was the point of my previous revelation:

I don’t want to go somewhere because I might find a man there.

I want to go somewhere because I want to be there.

It sounds like a small philosophical distinction.

In real life, it changes everything.

If I am looking for someone, I move differently through a room.

I watch.

Assess.

Compare.

Hope.

Disappoint myself.

Interpret.

But if I am somewhere because I genuinely enjoy being there, something entirely different happens:

I am busy living my life.

And suddenly people can appear inside it.

 

At one point that evening, I found myself making a heart out of balloons with an artist.

Of course it was a heart.

The universe occasionally lacks subtlety.

I wanted particular colours.

They didn’t have them.

Apparently the consistency of the balloons was also against my artistic vision.

So I ended up with different colours.

I was pleased with the heart.

Not the colours.

But the heart.

And perhaps that was a rather good metaphor:

Life doesn’t always come in the colours we ordered.

It can still turn out beautifully.

 

 

Later, someone I hadn’t seen for years suddenly messaged me:

“Regine, are you here too?”

We had apparently walked past each other without noticing.

Then, suddenly, we found ourselves standing opposite one another in another part of the exhibition.

And we talked.

And laughed.

And celebrated seeing each other again.

I hadn’t gone there to meet her.

I didn’t even know she would be there.

And that is precisely the point.

When we organise our lives entirely around what we are looking for, we can miss everything that wasn’t on the search list.

 

The same applies to people.

Perhaps the question isn’t:

“Where are all the right men?”

Perhaps the better question is:

“Where am I happiest being myself?”

Because that is where you first find yourself.

And perhaps you also find people who understand something about that world.

Not necessarily your partner.

But people.

Conversations.

Ideas.

Accidents.

Connections.

And occasionally something develops that you could never have planned.

 

We often think dating means finding the right person.

Perhaps it begins with finding the right life space.

Not geographically.

Humanly.

The right places.

The right interests.

The right conversations.

The right kind of people.

The right sort of life.

Because when you build your life in a way that genuinely suits you, something important happens:

You no longer have to leave your life to meet someone.

You can let someone into it.

That is a very different thing.

 

 

And perhaps it is the most relaxed form of dating there is.

About the Author

I'm Regine Rauin, also known as Mystic Maveress.

I read rooms the way other people read tarot cards.

And every now and then...

...I write a book.

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🗝️ Because many of the answers are already living with you.