a love triangle: the soulmate, the ballerina and I

Growing up, my favourite book was Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild.

Pauline, Posy and Petrova.

The actress, the dancer, and the other one.

Obviously, I wanted to be Posy. She wasn’t just beautiful and talented like Pauline; she was a prodigy. She was a star, and most importantly, she knew she was special. The thing about Posy that drew me to her was the innate talent, the confidence: the unshakeable belief that she was right, she was meant for greater things, she would be accepted. Posy put herself out there to be judged every day, knowing that they would all love her. She’s Posy. She always has been. I mean they’re both ballerinas, but it's obviously more than that. She’s just everything I wanted to be: poised and beautiful, with the same unshakeable confidence. She dresses well, you’d never catch her in hoodie and sweatpants (well, unless they were designer). She puts herself out there in a way that I have always been so envious of. She shares her hobbies with the world, knowing that she’s interesting and insightful and has things to say. She shares herself with the world, knowing that it will love her. He loves her.

He loves me too. But I think I was always Petrova: the other girl. The one who wasn't beautiful and poised. The one who isn’t a dancer, or a beautiful actress. The one who’s a mediocre performer, only really doing it because her family forced her into it. She went on to fix cars and live at home. Petrova is ‘the fun one’, I guess. I do Bollywood dance routines when I’m tipsy, singing in Hindi even when no one else understands me. He has fun being an idiot with me. I’m unrefined, intimidated by fancy dates and restaurants. For our first date, I tried to convince him to take me to McDonalds, instead of the nice restaurant he picked out for us. I have to be bribed into a dress and heels, because I feel like an awkward gazelle in them: slightly too tall, a little out of place, so sure that they can all see what a fraud I am when I try to look pretty. I hide behind being ‘the fun one’ too. I don’t tell people what I’m thinking, I don’t share my hobbies or thoughts with the world, and I hide behind this trash tv, Kardashian obsessed ditzy persona. He sees right through me and it’s kind of terrifying.

She's fragile, she might fall apart without him. He thinks I wouldn't. It’s the narrative I’ve set. I keep telling him that I’ll be okay.“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. We’ve always known this can’t really last.” I can't trap him with threats of falling apart. It's what she did: he knew she needed him because she kept telling him that.I could never bring myself to say the words.

I need you. Don’t leave me.

I thought about it: telling him I'd never recover if he left me. I could never do it because it's so manipulative and awful and I love him and it would break him. I actually do think I'll fall apart, and I'm not sure how I will cope. But I'm not going to tell him that. He needs to choose to be with me because he loves me, not because he's afraid of hurting me. Not because they're fighting and falling apart. I want him to actively choose me. I think its asking too much from him. I don’t think he can do it. I don't think he will. I love him, but I will not beg him to stay. Even if it does break my heart.

It’s all so dramatic, I can feel myself rolling my eyes and scoffing as I write this. We’re in our early twenties, who meets their soulmate this young? Who feels like this? I've never been one to believe in soulmates, or a happy ever after, but somehow I know he is mine. Despite my complete cynicism towards love and relationships (thank you generational trauma), and an intense fear of commitment, I’ve known there’s something special between us since the day we met four years ago.

We met in university halls. Its just so fucking typical. Fluorescent lighting, too many 18 year olds trying so hard to be cool and unaffected, a miserable dinner at the dining hall.

In line for said dinner:

"Ugh I hate boiled carrots."

"What do you mean you hate boiled carrots specifically?"

And that was it. We just connected. We walked back from the first night out at uni, both too tipsy and too nervous to understand why it felt like we had known each other forever. Walking back together on that bridge, hand in hand, looking into each others’ eyes and realising that this was real. We had this instant chemistry that felt so tangible, like we could reach out and pull on the invisible, red string that ties us together. After that night on the bridge, I kept thinking about him: swinging between the excitement of a first crush and knowing that i’d found ‘the one’ at 18, and being terrified of what that meant for my life.

He knows what we have. People go their whole lives looking for something close to what we have. It's so rare. It’s the kind where we look at each other and melt. The kind where he knows what I need before I do, seeing through the layers of pretensions and deflections in a way that no one has ever seen me before. The kind where I'm the only person who makes him laugh when it's all falling apart. I feel like he's my safe space. And I'm his. It's intoxicating.

We could have been something real. Something we could build a life around. But he started dating her. He actively chose her once. Over me. And I let him go, the fear of commitment winning out against the hope of a fairytale romance.

He's going to do it again. It helps that I’m now on a different continent and she’s right there next to him. She's the easier choice right now, but more than that she’s right choice. They’ve been together for 4 years, and he can’t leave her for what may just be an illusion. Stolen moments and secret looks when no one was watching us don’t count when he loved her for four years. And ultimately, she is Posy and I am Petrova. And although he is my soulmate, we all have our roles to play.

I am sure he loves me, but I know that he loves her too. He loves her more.