I'm A Bright Spirit. So Why Hasn't True Love Appeared?

On longing, reciprocity, and waiting for a sacred soulmate.

By Michael R. Smith, Ph.D.

There’s an ache in my bones. And it won’t go away until you appear.

After my recent triumphant stage debut (e.g. okay, I exaggerate a bit - just a simple Oakland gay men’s chorus concert), I wandered into the iconic White Horse Bar still in my all black concert attire and dress shoes. Wearing black isn’t my norm, but I felt sexy. As fate would have it, I instantly locked eyes with a beautiful young man. A white man. Also unusual. Hmm. What’s happening here?

Normally I wouldn’t engage someone who appeared so much younger than me, but perhaps it was the 8.5% alcohol cider that spoke louder than my rational mind. I made it clear I wanted to engage, and he moved toward me.

Standing tall, leaning toward me with bright eyes and a winning smile, he oozed confidence. I knew, as the ‘amateur astrologer’ that I proclaim to be (probably not giving myself enough credit), that he had to have prominent Leo placements. I asked him. Leo. Of course. His name was Blake, 31, a music therapist, in town for a conference from Sacramento, two hours away. Okay, not ideal, but doable.

He started chatting about his favorite music - Sabrina Carpenter being one of his favorites. And of course, being the fan girl that I am, I brought up Sabrina’s current collaboration with my queen, Madge, a.k.a. Madonna. He suggested the dance floor. Hell yes. My church. Zero inhibitions. And the music that night? Orgasmic. R&B dance-funk. Black. Full of soul.

When I dance, I make love to the groove. I don’t know any other way. After I somehow managed to work a triangle pose into my dance, he giggled. He literally giggled. And that was IT for me. I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him close, and we circled and grinded our hips in unison like a hula hoop. Shakira would be jealous. We rested our heads on each others chests, kissed each others' necks, and pressed our foreheads together. Oh. My. God. When he literally squeeled like a child, “this is so much fun!!!” - my heart took off like the space shuttle. Sparks and all. I’m done. Kismet.

We parted ways, exchanged numbers, and I came back to his hotel room the next day, but not before both agreeing that sex was out of the question because this felt too special. Once there, we undressed each other slinkily. Will he like my abs? Are my pecs too small? In the silence of our embrace, I proceeded to give him the most tender eyelid massage, while wordlessly asking God to bless this beautiful man. I shared that I discovered this ecstatic technique, just barely touching the corners above the eyelids, when I was a boy. He said he does that to himself regularly, and I was incredulous. Someone who knows exactly what I like? When he simultaneously both giggled and moaned in ecstasy, I said that he feels like sunshine. And he said that’s what he’s called by those closest to him. Of course he is.

Bottom line? He’s married. Happily - but in a mutually agreeable open relationship. His partner will allow him to visit me, but not the other way around. After we parted, he said he can next see me in about two months. When I heard this, my heart landed with a thud on the floor. Another unavailable man. Really? Again? It brought up debilitating echoes of three months previous, when a man I thought was my soulmate (and dating exclusively) told me, casually, that the beautiful candid pic I took of him was his new Grindr profile.

In 2012, early in my second relationship with a dreamy Dominican man named Frank - there was a moment at Tracks nightclub in Denver that lit a fuse inside the corners of my mind - and offered a glimpse of what’s possible. As his lithe and tight hips were sensually grinding with mine, in perfect unison, I remember thinking, “this is what I need, a man who isn’t afraid to express himself.” Frank was the first man, and Blake the second, who awoke the mystical, sensual, fierce dancer in me. I’m still waiting for the one who can reciprocate my moves long term.

It’s been five years since my 6-year sexless marriage ended. I ended it after I punched a hole through my office wall because I was so angry and resentful of relentlessly asking for apples - from a tree that could only give oranges. In the last 5 years, I’ve had ‘sex’ (I use that term very loosely) twice. That scarcity is largely on purpose. Grindr? Fuck it. I need someone who can match me - and witness and hold, with interest, my emotional landscape. It’s not worth it otherwise.

In moments of despair, my egoic mind runs on a bit of a loop. Why me? I’m gregarious, loving, humble, talented, compassionate, ambitious, creative, kind, responsible, funny, and magnetic. Why am I still single? I ask the Divine this question every day. Some days I holler. Other days I scream. The perk of being a spiritual medium is when I really need it, I actually hear back. Patience, child. We hear you. We understand you. He’s coming.

Grateful for that, yes. And yet I’m human. I have a need to be touched with Presence, to be caressed and held - with someone who knows how to travel with me to the place with no words. I’m a bit of a freak. In every sense. I own that. I’m a bit crazy, yes. I own that too - as a part of my gift. My soul contains the power of ten orchestras. I’m a Divine conductor who brings out the best in everyone I see. Where is that man who does this for me also? Cue the violins.

I don’t believe that the Divine wants me to be alone. I truly believe that my soul contract includes the lived experience of something that I have not yet known - being loved and reciprocated, fully, by another man.

My past patterns have involved settling for less than I deserve. I am grateful for all three of my past long-term partners. They are lovely men, all of them - but none of those relationships were ever aligned with what my soul truly requires. I entered each relationship because I didn’t want to be alone. And that, I’ve learned, only allows the initial spark to slowly devolve into embers, and then charcoal after that.

So, I wait. And in that wait, I acknowledge that I am being protected. My Spirit Guides are no doubt making sure that my ridiculously small Mars-in-Pisces romantic pea brain doesn’t fall, yet again, for exasperating mirages of reciprocity, but never the actual thing. Sometime next year is what I keep hearing. So here I am, writing away, trying to express a yearning so deep, and a longing so blazingly real.

Wherever you are, my beloved, I am calling to you. I pray for you, and with you, everyday. I feel you walking beside me, the invisible ‘ghost’ that you are. And I trust that you’ll soon appear.

I look forward to the day that I can tenderly caress your earlobes while spread eagle on silk sheets, because you’re probably a Taurus. Baby blue, to honor and reflect the gentleness of your soul. I am waiting for you to electrocute my spine by tenderly stroking the back of my neck. I look forward to holding your hand in public as we walk in the rain, while I clumsily cover your locks with my flimsy umbrella while trying not to trip over the curb. I can’t wait to have brunch with you, cook eggs for you, make coffee for you - and perhaps the most poignant of all - pick up my underwear, socks, and hoodies off the floor of my kitchen so you feel comfortable.

I don’t know what else to write or how to express my love for you. So I’ll end by acknowledging that this search for love, this hunger carved into my Heart is a tantalizing cosmic tantric mystery.

There’s an ache in my bones. And it won’t go away until you appear.

And for now, I’m okay with that.

For 20 years, Michael Smith, Ph.D. has served as a medium, channel, shamanic practitioner and spiritual guide. His mentoring programs, retreats, and classes can be found at EmpathConnection.com. His flagship program is The Spiritual Biz Levitator for those who want to make a living by starting or growing a spiritual business by sharing their gifts.

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This is an early excerpt from my forthcoming book. I will share more as the work evolves.

If my writing moves you, I welcome your perspective by simply replying to this email, or by forwarding it to a friend.