I have a theory.

Soulmates. Those oft-sought, rarely-found dream lovers who agree with you on damn near everything but don't argue about what they don't, who could never think about cheating on you, who value you over work every time, who no matter how long you're with them you never get tired of seeing their face. Those shining stars, those blooming roses. The one-in-a-millions.

There are, last time I looked it up, 6.5 billion people on this planet.

Barring the potential for future interplanetary romances or time travel, one-in-a-million, that's about 6500 people who could be your soulmate, who you could spend the rest of your life with. It's all a matter of which one of them you happen to stumble upon. Or not, hey, there are plenty of people who get divorces or never get married or whose loved ones get hit by buses. It happens.

So I am in a diner, considering this. Again. I think it's a wonderful theory but I can never quite explain it to people. They don't get it. I don't think they want to.

Something dawns on me, then. I'm gay. My numbers are not entirely accurate. I feel it is most important to fix this, so I do the math quickly. Okay, removing the female gender from my calculations, I have 3250 males wandering the planet with the potential to be my everything.

This is somewhat unsettling.

Let me explain this with examples.

That man that just rode past this diner on his motorcycle? If he hadn't eaten a hot dog before he left the city, if he had waited just a little longer to satisfy his hunger, he may have stopped in here. He may have started talking to me, we may have exchanged e-mails, and we may have spent the rest of our lives in each other's arms.

But it's not only their fault, their mistakes.

If I had driven just a little faster? If I had entered this diner before that couple, I may have been seated by Andrew instead of by Carly, and he may have spilled water on me, and somehow in the future, we may go through our work days waiting until we could go home and see each other.

But, in all probability, it would not have worked out that way.

3250 into 6.5 billion is .0000005 of the entire world population.

The likelihood of running into a specific .0000005 is not much.

The amount of romance novels depicting such relationships are therefore rather misleading.

But I'm not bitter. No.

Because, even though I do not have a soulmate, I have something you don't.

I have a theory.