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Virginia Vitzthum
Looking for Mr. Other Half
I want my soul mate to be my lover, best friend and intellectual equal. Why is that asking too much?

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By Virginia Vitzthum

Feb. 27, 2001 | "What if your soul mate isn't the person you have sex with?" my friend Jim wondered recently. "What if it's your sister or your best friend or some teacher who really inspires you?"

Impossible, I argued. The soul mate package comes fully loaded: sexual, emotional, intellectual, spiritual, sense of humor. You never need anything translated because you completely get each other. And you know immediately because you've found your missing half, as in Aristophanes' speech in Plato's Symposium.




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"Have you had that?"

"Sure," I said. "I mean, not for that long, and the guy turned out to be crazy, but for a few months there ..." I trailed off. I realized I had no idea why "soul mate" had outlasted the other myths I'd retired from my personal cosmology, like unconditional love and no work relationships and the man who maintains all his initial enthusiasm for cunnilingus.

It was time to reexamine the soul mate concept. I needed a break from my translation problem anyway; I was sick of parsing the cute bartender's parting words from the week before. I had initially interpreted the English phrase "I'll call you," which accompanied the exchange of phone numbers and bodily fluids, as "I'll call you," instead of the actual intended meaning of "I won't call you." My friends patiently listened to me discuss the phantom call. They also reminded me of the number of fish in the sea, that I'm a great catch and, gently, that sleeping with bartenders might not be the best soul mate procurement strategy.

God bless them, they knew right when to shift from "Don't worry, he'll call" to "OK, he is a jerk." I listened to them because they're usually right. These are the same friends who remember my birthday, bring me food when I'm sick, edit drafts of what I'm writing, let me sulk, tell the truth. My friends are smart and kind, a combination that seems elusive among my bachelor cohorts. As I pondered Jim's question, I realized my (male and female) friends are closer to soul mates than the men I've been romantically involved with.

I'm used to blaming myself ("It's not you, it's me") for being single, but perhaps it's not due to my pathology or my independence or a preference I haven't figured out yet. Maybe it's because romance is a terrible foundation for a relationship. Where friendship stabilizes and supports, romance keeps you off balance, wary, mean and defensive. What could be more perverse than donning a hard mask of unattainability to look for the one we can really open up to? When we're courting, we hoard our compliments, enthusiasm, disclosures -- especially women, with our cultural imperative of "mystery." Yet freely sharing that kind of thing is how you make friends.

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