My Partner Isn’t My Soulmate
by Vanessa Kass
I’ve never bought the “one and only” version of love and marriage.
Not just because over half of all marriages end in divorce. In fact, Dr. Samantha Rodman, a Clinical Psychologist, writes that “soulmate” is an impossible standard. By assigning your happiness to a partner who must satisfy and align with you in every area may cause a person to end a relationship unnecessarily. I fully agree that marriage today is placing far more burden on the partner than we ever have. Higher expectations and less grace. Not generally a recipe for success.
But that’s not why I don’t subscribe to the “one and only” theory.
My aversion to it is more so because of the sliding door theory. If I had made one different decision, changed plans or missed a bus, I could miss my only shot at true love? So while I don’t necessarily believe in the happily ever after version of the marriage story, I wholeheartedly believe in soulmates. And I have four.
My four soulmates are all women.
All friends that provide everything expected in a marriage partner. Except sex and cohabitation. Though it has been discussed. As a woman, you probably have one of these, too. Your vault. The one who knows you. The one who sees you. The person who shares your history. Yes, in the way that history means shared experiences, but also in the way that they are your personal encyclopedia.
When trying to remember something or getting big news which I have been assured I already knew, I have a failsafe. A quick text or phone call asking – did WE know this? If WE did not, the discussion is over. Because if I knew, and deemed it important, my soulmate will know, too.
Esther Perel, renowned couple’s therapist whose podcast, books, ideas, are LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE, speaks to these relationships being necessary. Perel believes that expecting your partner to fulfill all your needs is a new concept. Eli J. Finkel, professor of social psychology and author of The All or Nothing Marriage, argues the same. Where marriages used to be barters for goods and potential offspring, they are now expected to have all needs fulfilled within the duo.
My husband knows who my soulmates are and their importance to my life. My children, too. These women are their aunts. In role and title. We are, in effect, a package deal. In addition to asking my father and brother’s permission to marry me, he also asked L. When something big happens, he knows they will know. He will say – did you tell S yet? On more than one occasion, he has asked if they knew before he did. Noooooooo-uh? I mean, I don’t want to hurt his feelings. They know it all. And whether or not they knew it before or after him is immaterial. Spoiler – they knew it before him.
“where marriages used to be barters for goods and potential offspring, they are now expected to have all needs fulfilled within the duo.”
Being with any of these soulmates is like coming home.
But not in the way that you walk into a house after a busy day or a restaurant on date night. But in the way that there is ease, comfort and recognition. Oh, there you are, it’s been too long. There is no judgment or expectation. There is no tally sheet of who provides what or how long it has been. There is just being.
I have watched them while they cried. They have whisked me away to protect me or help me clear my head. They have held my brand new babies. I stood by their side as they got married. We have stood side by side at funerals. I have held their hand while, more than one of them, got their first bikini wax. They are always exactly what I need when I need it. Why? Is it because we ask? Is it because we are women and we have that sense and commonality of shared experiences and need? Maybe. It is not longevity. I have known only two of these women longer than I’ve known my husband.
But we all have these kinds of soulmates, right? I’m not telling you anything new.
Perel writes in The State of Affairs that “what we have created in a romantic ambition is one person to give us what once an entire village used to provide.” So these women are my village.
That we seek these relationships out is not new.
But here is where I diverge. And, I think, deep down you probably would, too.
If given the choice between my husband and my soulmates, my soulmates would win. Every time. We have discussed it. Going so far as to name our commune The Mompound. We envision a neighborhood of separate homes and caring for our broods and one another. Like sister wives. But without having to share the dude. In our more frustrated moments, we have been…unkind? No. Snarky. Sarcastic. Saying things about husbands and their use, or lack thereof, after successful procreation. About brothers who seem stuck at 12 even if they are pushing 40. How women just get the shit done. No waffling, no questions, no hesitation. Give us a problem? Yo, we’ll solve it. (Google it.)
Maybe by seeking out and fostering these relationships, we can ease up on the expectations of our partner. Not that our partner cannot be available. But that they are not the one who MUST be available and MUST be able to be all things.
Eli Finkel calls this the recalibration strategy where an imbalance is fixed not by increasing investment in the marriage but by decreasing the demands of the marriage. Diversify the people who support you and have a happier life. I’m not just saying that, either. It’s science and this peer-reviewed study concluded that people who spread their emotional needs across specialized relationships showed higher well-being than those that did not.
“these are the people who grab you by the back of your neck to prevent you from walking down that same toxic street again.”
These are the people who stay on the phone with you just so you can cry. The people who pick up the slack when you cannot. The people who make you wet your pants from laughing. And who grab you by the back of your neck to prevent you from walking down that same toxic street again.
Maybe it’s your sister. Or sisters. Or male friend. Or family friend. It just doesn’t have to be your partner. And you don’t have to feel like your marriage is diminished because they aren’t all things to you.
I have a husband. He is my mate. He does not complete me. He does not make me whole. He is not my soulmate. But A, L, S and N are.
And, frankly, if given the choice between them and my husband to quarantine with during a worldwide pandemic and dumpster fire of a year, I would have chosen them.
Every time.
Vanessa Kass is a writer, teacher and mindset mentor. She lives in Connecticut with her three children, husband, and menagerie of animals. You can find more of her articles here.
