I don’t believe in soul mates and I kinda think anyone who honestly does has never experienced walking into the Toledo, Ohio, Krispy Kreme. (Yeah. It’s a stretch, but hear me out.) Toledo’s Krispy Kreme was the first one I’d ever been to and will forever remain my favourite. Every notion of love I’d held before 1999 was summoned onto a conveyer belt following me as I made my entrance and eventual way up to the counter. I’d always been a fan of glazed donuts (read: the closest thing I’d ever had to a ‘soul mate’), but Krispy Kreme taught me that it’s quite all right (and encouraged!) to not only look, but also touch, and then devour.
My initial visit to the Kreme opened the dough to spiritual sprinkles, plush custards, fancified fritters, and all-around powdery goodness…as well as the realization that one donut cannot be everything to one person. Just as one person cannot be everything to another person. The idea that one person can be your husband/wife/caregiver/cowboy/glazed donut/Artist/baby-shaker/money-maker/everything you see here is as humourous as it is preposterous. In my opinion, there are far too many donuts and people to narrow them down to only the Crème Brûlée of the crowd.
Or so that’s how my glazed little mind rolls…
This year, I spent my first Christmas holiday in PDX (that’s Portland Done X-hibit to those unfamiliar with our glorious culture), away from my family, with a Boy. How I managed to corner one of the few Boys who actually listens, exudes coolness, and shares my nine-year-old mindset I will probably never uncover…but I’m sure glad I did. The two of us received a plethora of prizes reaching from a model of the Arc of the Covenant business card holder, to Nina Simon & Pink Floyd records, and topping off with a Batman chain wallet. I implore you, could one shared holiday get much better?! Bob Eubanks says, ‘Why, yes it can!’ Sweet.
At Boy Wonder’s suggestion, we dove into the record bit right after our Christmas smokes & eggnog. With Nina on deck, I decided this would be the crowning time to resurrect my ye old(e) circa-de-college-in-Ohio Nintendo. Having busted out two consoles, two hand controllers, and three Duck Hunt guns, lemme tell you that the realization on Boy Wonder’s face regarding what was about to happen…priceless.
I do plenty of things at very odd times=video games rebirths on Christmas, creating new recipes for Macrobiotic black bean dishes while on the horn with my Mother at five am, plotting out terrifically bad haircuts after jogging, etc. So, yes, my timing was a little off, but my Boy wasn’t. Dude took it like a pro and even ponied up the winning adaptor component, which brought Mario & Luigi back to life.
Warping to worlds, hidden extra lives, those weirdly shaped owls, these are a few of my favourite thiiings. ‘Favourite things’ right up there with our only real recess from game playing; cooking. In fact, the breakdown of our holiday was Super Mario Bros., eggnog, black & tans, attempted Duck Hunt, and Seafood Gumbo & Jambalaya.
The Boy can cook & so can I, he can play and I can follow suit, and the fact that we both usually want to cook or play at the same time gives him that ‘soul mate’ status, sure. That particular soul mate status because I think one problem folks seem to trip over is grouping a bunch of lovely attributes and temptations into one person.
I adore my Boy because he wants to play Nintendo as much as I do right now. I love him because he cooks & experiments just like ME! I dig him because he keeps up with me, makes me think and wish about traveling, and has a lotta respect for the same aspects of life as I do. Fer sher I want to be with him, but that doesn’t mean he has to be my coloured sprinkles/Tetris junkie/childhood chum/jelly-filled/puma-toting everything you see here. One of the best things I dig about the Boy is because we aren’t each others’ ‘everything’, we have all these other stories & relationships to share. I already have a childhood best friend/glazed donut and the Boy’s met him; they rap well together. I already have an ‘Artistic soul mate’, who shares my methods of creating, and I’m encouraged that my Boy has his own. When I frost myself up as ghetto, hard, pained, etc., I have people who can relate to my experiences…and the Boy does too.
Boy Wonder is my top Crème Brûlée, absolument. And he maintains his status, partly, by accepting that the two of us cannot be all things great and custard-y to one another. We can, however, swap a majority of passions, which outnumber those shared by others. Realistically, I don’t want or need anyone else to love, admire, or trust myself with because the Boy’s got it down. And honestly, I don’t want to be the Girl he solely depends on for music/pool/sounded languages/t-shirt addiction/batteries not so much included deliciousness. I want to be the Girl he’s excited to share all those things with, because that’s what I do with him.
Consequently, the idea of soul mates both amuses and bums me out. I would miss the chance to be able to share adventures of and on my own with my Boy. Metaphorically, there are sooo many donuts and mates to choose for each desire and stage of life. However, like the Boy, glazed will always be my favourite, dipped by samples of other donutty adventures which remind me how good the glazed really is.