I wasn’t aware of my longing. Lately I’ve been experiencing this strange feeling deep inside me that I can categorize as the anticipation of meeting someone deep down. Someone who doesn’t shy away from talking about my latest Pluto crisis and doesn’t shy away from negative feelings or uncomfortable truths like I do. I couldn’t quite put my finger on this feeling for a long time, even though I knew it was there, deep inside me. Sometimes I mistakenly called it loneliness, but loneliness is about not been feeling understood, even when you’re around people. And mine was longing. And it wasn’t about being alone, because longing isn’t just about being with someone. It’s that longing of waiting for a specific person you don’t know, but you know that when you meet them, you’ll know it’s them.

It’s a deep and inexplicable feeling associated with anticipation. Tonight I felt it more real than before. I was walking the streets around the old city of Chiang Mai in Thailand. After a digital nomad and entrepreneur meetup, where I felt… well, bored. But this meetup somehow activated an interest in exploring this hidden longing. I asked myself what exactly was I missing, meeting so many people from different countries, leading a similar lifestyle to mine and full of stories, like myself. We talked about our businesses… activities… well, but it was kind of dry and meaningless to me. I didn’t feel a deeper connection with any of these otherwise wonderful people. It sounded more like I had to brag about my current achievements in the market or, because I don’t have any at the moment, about my past achievements. And I…

… I just longed for a human connection. Someone deep, who could talk about her feelings. A woman. Who could openly share her worries. Her doubts or hesitations. A woman who could feel more at ease in my presence simply because I was with her. Someone who trusts me and feels comfortable sharing their deepest truths without fear of me judging them. The same woman who is willing to hear my own truths without running away screaming. Because I can be really psychologically deep for most people and I know it, but that’s not a flaw in me. It’s just who I am, and I love and accept myself for who I am. I just want to meet that woman who accepts me for who I am, and I accept her for who she is.

On my way back from the meeting, I passed a few Thai massage parlors and bars. Ladies in short skirts were sitting in front of some of them, waving and smiling, trying to get my attention. Some were very beautiful, some not so much, but… there was a lack of that same depth, and how exactly I understood it just by walking past them I can’t explain. I know how people like me are viewed here – the locals call white men like me Farang. The expression is not offensive, it just describes Europeans and Americans, men, and has historical roots. But the feeling that all this interest is about money cannot be mistaken. These ladies look at me and people like me as a walking wallet. They would be happy for me to become their client. These are not exactly call girls. These types of women in Thailand are provoked by the need to survive and behind their behavior there is a deep history, a lot of sadness and pain, as well as a fairly well-developed system of interaction, but nowhere in this whole thing is there any feelings, except for the eventual falling in love of the white man, which becomes a good reason for him to spend decent amounts of money on them. I respect their grief and directness, but it does not correspond to my desire for a deep relationship.

I felt this sadness… passing by romantically decorated restaurants and cafes. I saw a couple in love in one of them. It brought back memories of my younger years, when I was romantic, had someone I loved deeply and we were really connected.

Sadness, they say, is related to the realization that plans for a common future will not come true. But my sadness seems to be more of a nostalgia – for youth and the time when I felt in love and happy. It was not related to the person I was in love with, but to the very feeling of being in love and the disappointment that she did not turn out to be the one I was still expecting deep down.

Sometimes I look into the eyes of a woman I meet on the street. It’s as if I’m looking for her – her, my soulmate, and I expect to recognize her the moment I see her. The eyes, they say, are the door to the soul.

And I wonder… how can I be such a romantic idiot at my age and still believe that I will meet my soulmate on some street, traveling around the world and simply recognize her?

But I do believe. Don’t ask me why, because I can not explain.