You know every person has the same fear.

We are all afraid of being hurt..

Bullies are afraid of it, so they make sure that they inflict pain. If they are also sadists, they may enjoy the pain that they inflict. Masochists enjoy receiving pain, although they may be aware of the fact that it's not really a healthy way to be. Co-dependent relationships are when two people that have either bad habits or have been abused come together to self destruct or to heal. They can be either the worst thing for you or the best.

How we were created is always different. I am many things. I am a European Mutt. I am Candian, English, Jewish ( although, mostly just Poor Jewish Trash by the standards ) There is a Romanian with a touch of the Gypsy ( a trait I absolutely adore ) who migrated north to England.

There religion was not so much abandoned, as the philosophy changed.

There is no wrong way to talk to g-d.

We were no longer Jews, we weren't Christians. We just were.

Eventually, we came to Canada.

My Mum had me a wee bit before it was planned. You can get pregnant the first three times! The cheque isn't in the mail, etc.

I got put up for adoption.

You know, that isn't an issue, per se, with me. Not like it is to some. I just wanted to know who was responsible for these eyebrows.

However, it isn't the line of thought that I'm following here: Every religion embraces the idea of a soul mate in one form or another.

The family that adopted me raised me, technically, as High Anglican but Dad was a Physics Engineer. He had an attitude that was more like my maternal line had chosen with a lot more pragmatism thrown into the bargain. Judy ( the adopted mother ) wants to believe in Christianity because that way she can recant at the last minute and hopefully save her ass from hell.

She's not alone in this approach to life by any means.

I was once told I was taking the "credit card approach" to salvation by not being Christian. This man fully expected me to repent at the last moment. I explained to him that if I felt like going to a church, there was one I liked. The idea of a "credit card approach" tickled me to no end and will stick to me forever as something this man said.

However, I didn't feel restricted to it. I have managed to be in a synagogue. It wasn't easy. The Kingdom Hall, the Scientology place, the Hari Krishna's, where the Moonie's hung out, the Temple of Diana and Hecate. Honestly, a lot of places were a lot more welcoming and less snooty.

I have made a large part of my life's mission not so much to understand g-d but to understand how people talk to g-d.

See, g-d and I get along fine. I meet people and they always want to convert me. They hear "pagan" and their hearts freeze in their little chests.

Oh, no! You poor, misguided thing!

I must be that, you see, because I am obviously not one of the big, bad ones. If you are not a big, bad one then you must be a poor, misguided thing.

How do you know if you've met the "right" one?

Does your religion teach you?

Or does it truly come down to what you feel, inside your stomach? When you look that person in the eyes and know that you are completely safe?

I have been in love. I have been involved. Babe, they ain't the same thing.

I fell in love a while ago.

You should see him. Oh, man, he is so cute! He's got dimples!

The proverbial tall, dark stranger that enters your life and sweeps you off your feet. All he was missing was the flowing robes.

Who would have thought a pagan would fall for a guy named Mozes?

It sounds like a bad joke. Like we're starting a new underground movement to subvert Christianity.

Hey, wait a minute.....

No. I'll discuss that with him later.

Now, I happened to already be 2 years into my informal studies on Judaism and confess that I viewed him, partially, as a live specimen. The only other Jews I happened to have my hands on, were my Doctor and a tv producer. Both were rather busy and posed complications of their own.

I didn't plan on falling in love with him. He's a very overwhelming chap when he wants to be. Every time I turned around, there he was! Now, I will grant you that I told him it wasn't smart but I still came out of the friggin' house, didn't I?

When I got married, it was because of pride more than anything else. I didn't want to anymore. I would have given anything for a respectable reason to back out and keep the store. No one would give it to me! It had become a pecker contest between my adopted mother and I. The most expensive pecker contest I've ever been in, I'll tell you!

The only gain from it was my son. To this day, anyone who knows anything about my husband will shake their heads and try to figure out how Bryce ended up anywhere near normal.

Not that he is, mind you, but look who he has for a mother!

I fell in love after Bruce. He was different. I respected him, I trusted him. Circumstances ripped us apart and while I am happy now, I was sorry I lose him. There is a world of difference between people who choose to end a relationship themselves and one that has been destroyed by the trechoury of others. Particulary of ones you had trusted.

Then there was someone I had a relationship with. I knew I was settling. I didn't tell him that. ( Not until after it was over. ) I knew very well that he couldn't cope with such information.

Few people can actually deal with the truth. Have you ever noticed that? Everyone says " I want you to always be honest with me!"

That really only applies if you are going to be nice to them, to agree with them or if you are going to just keep quiet.

When I was younger, my Dad used to get very irritated with my brothers. They would ask him a question ( I have frequently heard these same two phrases uttered from myself ) then they would ignore his response. His face would tighten up and tilt down as he looked over the top of his glasses.

Nothing meant more trouble than Dad looking over the top of his glasses at you. That meant he was actually taking the time to readjust his focus on you.

Then you heard: "If you didn't want the answer, why did you ask the question?" or "Are you actually going to bother listening to this? Since you asked me?"

When people ask me questions that I know they won't like the answer to I will try to be diplomatic. I will hedge and avoid the question. If they won't let me, I will try to nicely point out that I don't want to answer and sometimes, if I'm in a bitchy mood, I'll just say, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to".

This guy did actually ask me if he was a replacement for the man that I loved. I knew I could honestly say no because in order to replace something you have to be of equal or greater value.

This guy was no where near that quality. So, he couldn't be a replacement. "No, dear, you aren't."

That's something that no religion teaches you, folks! "Dear" isn't a term of endearment! It's a term of obligation. "Yes, Dear." is something said by either spouse when their mate has become such a royal pain in the ass that they will say just about anything to shut them up!

How did I know that he was settling, though? Was it just because he was having difficulties?

No, that won't work. I'm constantly in interesting times. If my love had dismissed me because of troubled times, or I him, then we wouldn't be together.

It wasn't something that religion had taught me. It wasn't even something that psychology had to teach me. It was something I knew in my heart because I had felt something better with the man in between. I knew there could be more. I knew I didn't have it with him.

When I met Mozes ( oh, that's gonna mess me up for this! I usually say Moshe. I'm gonna be the Queen of Backspace by the end of this tale ) he was having some difficulties of his own. It's not my place to tell his life to anyone. That is for him to say.

I will say that I wanted to help. He wouldn't let me. Even now, he doesn't always let me. Asks advice, occasionally, but just so that he has something to ignore! (Love you, honey!)

He drove a cab, that was how I met him. I was impressed that he could actually use the word diaphanous in a sentence properly. ( It's kind of become a joke between us. ) Every time I asked for him, I never got him.

I, finally, outright bitched. I got him.

I suffer from a Florence Nightingale Complex so when another driver told me that he was having some difficulties, I upped my attempts from just asking to have him for my driver to the bitch.

"What was the point of telling your customers they can ask for a driver if you never send the driver when they ask?"

I missed him too much for a pet project and I knew it. I could tell myself it was because I wanted to ask about Judaism and there was no doubt that I would but that wasn't all there was to it.

I hate lying too much to do it to myself. It's been done to me too often. My husband forced me to lie and I had often been accused of it when I had been the one telling the truth. All of these things come together to make someone who is rather fanatical about honesty.

When people lie to themselves and me at the same time I will usually tell them that they can do it to themselves, if they must, but kindly leave me out of it.

The very first time I saw him, there was something about his smile and his eyes that drew me. We had talked in the cab and after unloading it onto the porch, I introduced him to my sister. He thought he forgot my name but the fact was, he never heard my name that first trip, only hers. We stood in the driveway talking about prophesies. The difference between their fulfillment and coincidence.

When I introduced him to Laurie, I put my hand across his shoulder without even thinking about it.

I withdrew it immediately because he wasn't mine to touch.

I hadn't thought about it, though. Normally I would have. He was married, you see. I respect those boundaries. I saw the ring on his finger. I made a point of leaning forward in the back seat to look at his left hand to find out if he was wearing a ring.

I had been a hermit and he was the first in five years that I looked at with anything more than a passing fancy.

It disturbed me.

I didn't know what to do about it. I had been wearing a shirt that said "religions of the world" that was how our whole discussion had started. He had made a joke and had me guess his name. I got his on the second shot. I got his firstborn son's on the third ( something he never really mentioned ).

We had done the ritualistic flashing of talismans. He noticed my pentagram. ( ah, you're Wiccan. My response was "no, not really but it's close enough." )

I took cab rides I didn't even need over the next six weeks trying to catch up with him. Not the swiftest choice for those of us living below the poverty line here on Ontario's Disability System.

There were days that I could hear him and it seemed that it wasn't good. I worried. I couldn't figure it out. I tried to rationalize it.

Rationalization and Justification. The two favourite pass times of the human race. I tried to understand why the heck this guy would matter so much.

I mean, gorgeous wasn't a good enough reason. Brains are good and I will grant you that having both in the same space is a hard thing to come by but then that would be why his wife was smart enough to marry him, right?

Another driver told me he was separated. Not everyone has brains. What can I say? I knew he had two small kids and that Florence Nightingale thing just revved into overdrive.

When I finally saw him, I was hoping that my reaction wouldn't be what it was the first time. Maybe I had exaggerated it in my mind over the six weeks absence. Maybe it was just because I hadn't got laid in almost two years.

Aw, man.....

Did he have to be so freaking cute?

Worse, he remembered me!

Loaded up the cab with the groceries and off we go on the short trip to my house. ( this is not a big town. NO trip lasts very long. ) I knew I had to ask my questions very quickly but kindly.

I heard you were having trouble?

He was justifiably angry at the idea that another driver had been spreading the rumour that he was separated from his wife when it wasn't the case. They had only had an argument. Nothing more.

I let out a sigh of relief. I might want him but I am no vulture and I don't want to break up anyone's marriage. Particularly one with two small kids.

However, there is a problem with being attracted to intelligent men. He wanted to know why this woman had chosen to tell me.

Uh, er, um. Well? I might have mentioned when I had her driving me to the store a couple of weeks ago what a shame it was that you wore gold....

His hand flew to the Star of David at his neck.

On your hand, you twit, not on your neck. I don't care about religion.

There was silence from the front seat and I felt about two inches tall.

Why is it that, male or female, people think that the words " If I could..." will ever make the other person feel better?

Guess what I heard?

Oh, please. Don't give me that. I'm disabled. I have been dealing with the looks from men for the last four years. They look me over. When they get to the brace on my leg, they suddenly get an angry and betrayed look on their face as though I have committed false advertising.

I admit that my own bitterness came to the fore in my response to that. I told him that compliments that come from pity don't do much for the ego.

I've never seen someone try so hard to watch the road and turn completely around in the seat at the same time. He looked totally flummoxed.

When we unloaded the groceries he watched me put them away. As he stood there he noticed a small sign where death smiles at you and tells you "not to worry, he's just here for the cake".

Without much hope in his voice he asked me if I had ever heard of someone named Terry Pratchett? I started to speak and then just said come on.

Bounding into my family room I guided him to my bookshelf I showed him a whole section of books by that author.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

He had to go, had to work. He was hanging around. An hour later he was back and hung around again. It was clear that we wanted to be together, it was dangerous. He was married and the more he talked, it came out that the "fight" was only one of many. I told him that I couldn't just take advantage of his being vulnerable. It wasn't fair, wasn't right.

He kept saying he wanted to be a nice guy. I said you can't be if you do what we are thinking. He asked me if he could? I said if you have to ask, you already know the answer. So, we didn't. I won't say it didn't hurt like a bastard, but we didn't.

He wouldn't consider that we couldn't see each other. I told him to go away. Many times in the first couple of weeks I said it. Four times, the second day, I said it. Now, before I mean anything, go away.

Yet, he meant something to me the first time I saw him.

As the year passed, we realized that there have been half a dozen times ( that we've discovered so far ) over the course of fifteen years that we have been only moments apart. Literally, at the same apartment complex and not managed to find each other. Mozes bought a deck of Tarot cards at my occult store 14 years ago from one of my students.

Where was I? I haven't the foggiest. Most of the time I was there. For some reason, that time I wasn't.

Was there a reason we had to wait? Did we have to go through all of this horrible stuff before we could meet?

I know that I would have known him no matter what. I would have the same reaction to him. I have always been attracted to the same looks so that wouldn't be the issue. He has always had the same soul.

I know that I haven't changed. People have commented that I am rather strange that way. I have people saying I still look like I am 15. ( I think that's the zits, though )

He asks how I know that it wasn't me that sold him the deck of cards.

I know because of how I feel around him. How I felt the very first time I saw him and every time I think of him.

How do you know when you have your soul mate? I don't know if religion will teach you or not. I think you need to understand that your soul mate isn't a carbon copy of yourself. They compliment you. They complete you and balance you.

For reasons that began long before my arrival, Mozes was finally separated and Divorced from his wife. ( and I put that in primarily because more than just friends might read this and I don't want to be seen as a mistress or a house wrecker, thanks. Ain't and wasn't. Sorry for the burst of reality.)

I know that when I think of my love, I want to make him happy.

I want to do what I can ( silly as it is, and difficult as the task may be ) to try and be pretty for him. Fortunately, his standards don't seem to be very high.

He thinks that I'm not a romantic but every time I have ever been one, it has been used against me. It has a tendency to cure one of overt displays of affection when they are used as fodder for blackmail or mockery. Even once is enough. There are certain breeches of trust that are hard to get over.

I don't want to think of my life without him.

I know that missing him is like a gnawing ache, worse than my ulcer, that nothing seems to soothe. That when I'm alone, I watch my documentaries and I want to be able to turn and ask him what he thinks. Or even just to have him doing his photography work, surfing the Net and calling me over to show me something that he has found interesting because he wants to include me. It seems so stupid to try and say those things to him. They don't fit in the bedroom and that's invariably when men roll their eyes at us.

I have learned things that I never intended to because he wants it of me. In a way it's funny. There are all those jokes about women trying to change their men out there but in this particular relationship, it's the other way around. I'm the one constantly whining "stop trying to change me".

I think he's absolutely beautiful. I thought it the first day I met him. I think it now when he's lost fifty pounds and proudly strutting around with his beard and earring.

He said, when I wrote of him, to not make him out to be an ogre about my pain. I don't think he is one.

I don't think he understands the first thing I sometimes feel, when it comes to talking to him about my health, and what I've lost, is primal therapy screaming. However, that's really not acceptable behaviour. Worse, I can't even throw a good hissy fit anymore because it hurts!

I wish that we could have found each other, just soon enough. I think, as much as we may hate the things we had to experience with our respective ex-mates, we may have had to. Both of us came out of those unions with beautiful children that we wouldn't trade. I can't have anymore. Maybe, for all the wonderful chemistry there is between us, we wouldn't produce viable stock. I have a lot of things wrong with me. Perhaps there is something that wouldn't mix well with him.

If one believes in soul mates, then one must accept that there is a higher power that created you. We were so close, so many times. Why didn't we find each other when I was still capable of bearing a child? If there is a higher power, there must be a plan, right? May not like those ex's but there must be a reason that they were the ones that had to parent our offspring. Even if we don't understand it.

Said it before, I'll say it again.

G-d's got some explaining to do.

I'll have no problem's if there's a rational explanation. Otherwise, I'll have to stage a sit in or something. (Hey, he knew what he was getting into....)