I overheard a conversation between two waitresses yesterday; they were lamenting about being unable to find "The One" and subsequently, about all the lonely nights spent with their cat and a pint of ice cream. They seemed to think that it should be immediately possible to identify The One upon meeting him, without having to be bothered to speak to him or hang out with him or fuck him. They wanted "The One" to come with a placard signifying such: These women clearly were not interested in the messy work of discovering another human being - be that discovery pleasantly surprising or bitterly disappointing. Then again, perhaps these women were the kind for whom "The One" does in fact wear a placard-- a placard known as a black American Express card.
But there seem to be many people who believe deeply and existentially in The One. I don't know why you would torment yourself with that thought. But then, I suppose most of the people who believe in such a thing, while belonging to a species 6 billion members strong, must not know much about statistical probability. Or they just conveniently believe in fate, or God, or eHarmony, or some other force which facilitates the act of finding that 1 person out of 6 billion.
The thing that has always put me off to the idea of The One is, what if it is true that there is only one person for you, and you find them? And then they get hit by a bus? What do you do then? Do you resign yourself to solitary existence? Do you reluctantly carry on relationships with people who you know to be inferior to your previous mate, solely on the basis that they are not The One, because the other one was The One? Or do you then maybe begin to suspect that the one who is dead is not really The One, because if they were then they wouldn't be dead. Obviously. The fates or gods or website that brought you together couldn't be that cruel. And this new person is pretty cute, so hey. Maybe you just got it all wrong and THIS is The One.
But then what if The One v2.0 leaves you for a tranny hooker? What do you tell yourself then? Do you descend into self-loathing because The One got away? Do you yet again decide that you failed to correctly identify The One and set your sights optimistically on The One v3.0?
At what point does a person begin to suspect that there may, in fact, not be The One? That there are only "the ones" - the ones you'd like to sleep with but should never ever marry, the ones you'd like to talk to but the thought of them naked makes you queasy, the ones you could reasonably settle down with as long as you never attempted to procreate with them, the ones you adore who won't give you the time of day. The ones who help you discover what exactly it is you want after all. The ones who make it clear (sometimes painfully so) just who The Ones are. The Ones who are not perfect, but who are just right. And the best thing is, there is more than one of them out there.
Unless you are, say, an adult person with dubious hygeine living in your aging parents suburban basement, spending your time playing video games, eating Dorritos, and learning to speak Klingon. Then you might have to hold out for The One.
Well, actually, no - let's be honest here. In your case, there's a good possibility that you're going to have to build The One out of scrap metal and silicone.