Being Hit by the Lust Truck: The 'Soul Mate' Connection

Cold Open

It happened in the dark, at an outdoor theatre. We were sat next to each other, a someone wedged between us on the bench like fate trying to cockblock destiny. I wasn’t even paying much attention until that guy in the middle got up to grab snacks—and suddenly, we were alone.

I looked over, just a glance, and that’s when I saw them. His eyes. Deep brown. Bottomless. The kind of eyes that don’t just look at you—they see you. His smile was warm, a little shy, and absolutely ruined me. The kindest face I’d ever seen. Soft, capable hands resting in his lap. A subtle, musky warmth in the air that I’d later realise was him.

We made awkward conversation, the kind where you both keep glancing and looking away, smiling for no reason. My heart was thundering. I felt like I’d forgotten how to be a human. Butterflies. Breath caught. Couldn’t maintain eye contact without feeling like I’d melt through the seat.

I don’t remember what we said. Maybe it didn’t matter. What I do remember is the feeling: like I’d always known him. Like the universe just slipped him into place beside me, and I’d finally noticed he’d been there all along.

We watched the show together. Walked out into the night like we’d done it a hundred times. And the next day, we were tangled naked in a hotel room, making the kind of love that burns old memories to make space for something new.

WTF Just Happened?

I’m not religious, but this felt like some kind of divine slap. Not just lust. It wasn’t purely about his vampirish smile or the way his jeans clung to his thighs (though let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt).

It was like every part of me—emotional, physical, hormonal, metaphysical—just snapped into attention and yelled, THAT ONE.

People love to throw around phrases like "soul mates" or "twin flame" when this happens. And while I don’t keep crystals on my nightstand or check my moon rising before I top, I can’t deny the feeling was real. Cosmic, even. But what if it’s not destiny? What if it’s just science, high off its tits on hormones?

Science Time — But Make It Sexy

Let’s break down what actually happens when you experience that magnetic, can’t-look-away attraction: Your brain isn’t just reacting. It’s throwing a bloody rave.

Dopamine is the headliner. It’s the chemical that makes you feel euphoric, laser-focused, and ready to risk it all. It’s why you suddenly feel alive, like your life just got promoted to high-definition.

Oxytocin shows up with the cuddle vibes, even if you haven’t touched. It's about trust and connection, making this random stranger feel... familiar. Safe, even. Which is absurd. You don’t even know if he folds his towels or owns cutlery.

Then there’s PEA (phenylethylamine), nature's party drug. It’s that fluttery, dizzy, can’t-eat-can’t-sleep buzz that happens when your brain decides someone is really, really important.

Add in some adrenaline from the shock of it all, and boom: welcome to the gay version of a full-body chemical hijack.

And it’s not just the hormones. You’ve got mirror neurons doing their thing, copying his smile, syncing your body language. Your brain is basically screaming, “Yes, we like this one! More, please!”

The Science Works For The Gays?

Now let’s get something straight (well, not straight, but you know): most of the science around attraction has been studied through a painfully heteronormative lens. Reproduction, baby-making, caveman-wants-cavewife type stuff.

But queers? We’re just as chemically susceptible to this madness. The same biological mechanisms apply, even if we’re not trying to make mini-me’s. We still get the dopamine rush, the oxytocin warm-and-fuzzies, the adrenaline punch in the gut.

In fact, some studies suggest queer folk might even be more attuned to those subtle cues. Why? Because we’ve had to develop a sharper radar. Gaydar isn't just a party trick—it’s pattern recognition, baby. We’re subconsciously scanning for everything from scent to body language to voice timbre, trying to decode: Is he one of us? Is he safe? Is he flirting or just very European?

Is It Love? Or Just Brain Crack?

Here’s the bit where I gently rain on the fairy tale: that cosmic connection doesn’t always mean it's love. Sometimes it’s limerence—an intense, obsessive infatuation that feels like destiny but often burns out fast. Think firework, not fireplace.

Sometimes your nervous system is responding to unmet needs or old attachment wounds. That feeling of familiarity might be genuine recognition... or it might be your inner child saying, “Ooooh, this feels like home!” Even if that home had broken windows and a dodgy landlord.

Still, it doesn’t mean the feeling isn’t real. It is real. It’s just not always the whole story.

So What Do You Do With It?

First: breathe. Don’t propose marriage. Don’t start planning your Christmas card photo. Let the feeling exist without demanding it prove anything.

Ask yourself: Is this mutual? Is he giving you anything back, or is your brain throwing a solo rave in a room he hasn't even walked into?

And if you find yourself obsessing? Journal. Wank. Or both. No shame in metabolising the feeling however you need to. But don’t confuse intensity with destiny. That way lies chaos, crying in the shower, and an embarrassing amount of UberEats receipts.

Closing – That Electric Moment

Whether it lasts a minute or a lifetime, that magnetic pull is one of the wildest parts of being human. It's rare. It's raw. It's unfiltered connection before words even show up to the party.

So if you’ve had that experience—if someone has walked into your life and short-circuited your entire nervous system—you’re not crazy. You’re just delightfully, dangerously alive.

And maybe... just maybe... that’s the whole point. And if they feel the same, fuck me, it's gonna be a wild ride...

Gay Science: Did You Know?

Some studies show people can decide if they’re attracted to someone in less than 0.13 seconds. That’s faster than it takes to read this sentence.

Ever had a soul-mate-level crush that fried your brain?

• Yes, and I’m still recovering
• Yes, and it worked out (miraculously)
• Nope, but I’m open to it
• Every damn week