SOULMATES | INSPIRATION
Was There Ever a “Favorite” Couple in Your Life?
Two couples inspired me to believe I could find my soulmate
Is there a favorite couple in your life? What I’m asking is if there are two people you know who inspire you to find a soulmate. I’ve had a few favorite couples who did that for me— not many, but ones I won’t forget.
The first couple that made me sit up and take notice was—no surprise—made up of two artists I met as a ten- or eleven-year-old. I was waiting in the hall for a friend to finish her dance lesson in a building dedicated to artists. I was a middle-grade student who mostly felt out of step with the world, with no idea how to fit in or even feel better about it.
As the sky darkened outside, a man with longish hair in a sweater and jeans appeared with a broad smile and the stride of a dancer. He asked me if I’d seen his wife — I hadn’t — but in a few minutes, she appeared. Her hair wasn’t much longer than his, and she, too, wore jeans and a sweater and moved gracefully around the hall.
It was plain that they were glad to see each other. They didn’t try to whisper or hide what they were saying. They introduced themselves to me as Bart and Dahlia — two perfect names, I decided, for artists. When they talked to me, they met my eyes and smiled as if I were an adult. It seemed like they really wanted to hear what I might say.
When you are part of a couple that respects other people, including children, you are a stronger couple—and they seemed to know this. Dahlia was a dancer, and Bart was an artist, and it seemed as though they each had strength that nourished them as a couple.
They didn’t have a lot of money, as far as I could tell, but I could tell that didn’t matter to either of them. I never saw them again, but I knew I wanted to find someone who made me feel like they did when they were together.
Ideal couples don’t come at us every day, and it wasn’t until I’d been out of college a few years and got married that I met another one. This happened when I was working at a university where a group of doctors were studying the acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS).
One of the researchers was named Hugh, and he was the most serene person in the group. He had a beard, curly hair and a motorcycle. He lived on a houseboat with his wife, whom he called by her last name — Kessler.
I loved this notion because it reminded me of how the doctor character in Northern Exposure refers to a woman he’s attracted to by her last name, too. It seemed so much sexier and less mundane than calling your sweetheart by her first name.
Kessler and Hugh lived on a houseboat on the Hudson River. They grew plants on the deck. I don’t know where they parked their motorcycle, but somehow, they figured that out without me having to worry about it. I don’t know what Kessler did or even if she did anything at all.
Hugh had a picture of his wife tacked on his office wall. Like him, she had shaggy, curly hair but instead of being dark like his, it was blonde. She was absolutely the person I wanted to be when I grew up. I could see something much more interesting than happiness in her eyes — at least in Hugh’s picture. She seemed content, competent, and adventurous — all traits I coveted.
Of all the people I knew at work, Hugh was the one I felt most comfortable talking to. I think we both read the same books, and our worldviews coincided. That made me decide that I should search for a male version of Kessler if I was ever going to be as happy as I wanted to be.
One day at lunchtime, I asked Hugh if he would ride me around for a few minutes on his motorcycle. I had always wanted to do this but never figured out an opportunity. “You don’t have a helmet,” he said, “And we don’t need something to happen to you. But I’ll let you ride with me for a block or two.”
I didn’t want to question him and lose the chance to ride, so I jumped on behind him as he started up the bike. We rode for barely a block, and he stopped, but in the two minutes I was on that motorcycle, it felt like I was dancing through the street, more powerful than all the other cars and buses around us. I could barely get myself to get off, but I did.
The experience made me decide I absolutely had to learn to ride a motorcycle — though I never did. Years later, I rode a moped with my husband on a trip to Isla Mujeres; but riding with Hugh was the closest I came to the real thing.
I stayed at the university for about a year and found another job as a writer and assistant editor at Scholastic Magazine. Everyone seemed happy for me except Hugh, and at my going-away lunch, I had to turn to him and say, “Come on you. Be happy for me.” He refused, and we laughed, but I knew he was glad I was moving forward with my writing career. He didn’t have to say it.
I was happy to leave the job, but I also missed everyone and Hugh most of all. It wasn’t just about him though — it was also about the image I’d built up of him and Kessler. I am probably exaggerating their happiness, but they still made me feel hopeful — because when couples are truly happy, you know it.
A few years later, my first marriage ended. When that happened, I had time to think more about Hugh, Kessler, Bart and Dahlia. Before I divorced, I met someone who seemed like an ideal friend. I think that was because he was (and is) my soulmate.
How did I know this? No idea. At the time, it seemed we had ESP and knew what each other was thinking. We had gotten to know each other at an Al-Anon meeting and tried hard to stay away from each other romantically. We started connecting more after both of us left our particular group and joined others.
There is more to this story, but it’s a separate one, and I want to do it justice when I share it with you. The main thing I’m trying to explain here is that I couldn’t have found the right person without meeting my ideal couples. Both of them showed me what I was missing in my life.
To me, that meant being brave when my soulmate showed up. It felt a bit like jumping on a motorcycle — but this time, I was driving my own. And a helmet was no longer needed.
