I’ve been in love three times in my life, and each experience taught me something radically different about what love really means. The first two came easily – those whirlwind romances that felt like destiny, the kind you read about in books. They were effortless to fall into, yet ultimately left me heartbroken and questioning everything I thought I knew about relationships. Then came the third love, the one that led to marriage, and it was nothing like the others.
This time, there were no clear signs from the universe, no overwhelming certainty that this was “The One.” Instead, there was anxiety, doubt, and countless sleepless nights wondering if I was making the right choice. I agonized over questions like “Is this really it?” and “How will I know for sure?” The lack of that Hollywood-perfect moment almost cost me the relationship entirely – until I realized something profound about healthy relationships that changed everything.
Our culture bombards us with images of soulmates and perfect love stories, creating expectations that real relationships can rarely meet. We wait for that lightning bolt moment of absolute certainty, not realizing that lasting love often grows quietly through daily choices rather than arriving in one dramatic revelation. The truth is, no relationship will ever be completely fulfilling in every possible way – and that’s okay.
This realization didn’t come easily. Like many people caught in the soulmate myth, I had to learn the hard way that love isn’t about finding someone who completes you perfectly, but about choosing someone whose imperfections you can embrace. It’s about recognizing that your partner is just as complex, flawed, and human as you are – and deciding to build something beautiful together anyway.
As Iris Murdoch wisely observed, love requires us to truly see another person in all their particularity. Not as a character in our personal love story, but as a complete individual with their own needs, dreams, and limitations. This shift in perspective – from seeking perfection to embracing reality – might be the most important lesson we can learn about creating relationships that last.
The Effortless Pain: My First Two Loves
My first love arrived like a summer storm—sudden, intense, and drenching everything in its path. At nineteen, I mistook the adrenaline of uncertainty for cosmic certainty. He quoted Neruda unprompted, remembered how I took my coffee after one mention, and kissed me like we were the only two people who’d ever discovered this particular magic. For six glorious months, I floated on the conviction that love was supposed to feel this effortless, this destined.
Then came the Tuesday morning when he handed back my toothbrush in a Ziploc bag. No fight, no gradual cooling—just a quiet ‘I think we want different things’ over half-eaten avocado toast. The whiplash left me gasping. How could something that felt so right vanish without warning?
The Pattern Repeats
By my mid-twenties, the second love story unfolded with eerie familiarity. This time, the protagonist wore vintage leather jackets instead of thrifted sweaters, but the plot points were identical: the late-night conversations that felt like uncovering buried treasure, the way his hand fit perfectly in the small of my back, the unshakable certainty that this was how love was meant to be.
Until it wasn’t. The breakup scene even recycled the same props—another café, another calmly delivered verdict (‘We’re just on different journeys’), another Ziploc-bagged toothbrush (why do men always return hygiene products this way?). As I watched him walk away, a new fear took root: What if I was chasing a fantasy that didn’t exist?
The Hidden Cost of ‘Easy’ Love
Looking back, I recognize the dangerous illusion both relationships shared: they required no real work from me. Like binge-watching a romantic drama, I’d passively absorbed the emotional highs without investing in the messy character development. The absence of friction felt like proof of compatibility, when in truth, we’d simply avoided the vulnerable conversations that build lasting connection.
Research shows our brains confuse familiar patterns with healthy ones. Those early relationships followed the emotional blueprint I’d absorbed from movies—intense attraction, minimal conflict, dramatic endings. No wonder the healthier but less cinematic third love initially felt ‘wrong.’
The Turning Point
Then came the third love—the one that defied all my expectations. There were no poetic declarations, no sense of fate intervening. Just two slightly bruised people showing up, day after day, choosing to stay even when it didn’t feel magical. For the first time, I faced the terrifying question: What if real love isn’t about finding the perfect person, but becoming someone capable of imperfect commitment?
Little did I know, this uncomfortable new beginning was preparing me for the most counterintuitive truth about healthy relationships: sometimes, the right love feels entirely different from what you’ve been taught to want.
The Soulmate Myth and Its Casualties
We’ve been fed a dangerous fairy tale. From Plato’s Symposium to Hollywood’s The Notebook, our culture insists that true love should feel like destiny – effortless, all-consuming, and perfectly aligned. This romantic ideal follows a predictable script: instant recognition, cosmic chemistry, and the unshakable certainty that you’ve found “The One.”
The High Cost of Romantic Perfectionism
Research tells a sobering story. A 2022 Journal of Marriage and Family study tracked 1,000 couples over a decade, finding those who strongly believed in soulmates were:
- 32% more likely to experience relationship dissatisfaction
- 28% more prone to consider divorce during conflicts
- 3 times as likely to misinterpret normal disagreements as “signs we’re wrong for each other”
I witnessed this firsthand during my second relationship’s collapse. As my partner packed boxes while I sat tearfully on our bed, I kept thinking: “If we were really meant to be, this wouldn’t be so hard.” The tragedy? Our challenges were completely normal – it was my expectations that were unrealistic.
Rewriting the Love Story
Here’s the paradigm shift that changed everything: Your partner isn’t broken – the cultural narrative is. Consider:
- The Compatibility Mirage
We’ve been taught that “right” relationships require matching puzzle pieces. But psychologist Dr. John Gottman’s research reveals successful couples share only about 70% common interests – the rest is navigating differences with respect. - The Spark Fallacy
That intoxicating “can’t eat, can’t sleep” feeling? Neuroscience shows it’s simply your brain’s reward system firing – not a cosmic sign. Lasting relationships transition from dopamine highs to oxytocin-rich comfort. - The Completeness Con
No single person can – or should – fulfill every emotional need. As poet Kahlil Gibran wrote: “Let there be spaces in your togetherness.” Healthy love exists alongside individual friendships, passions, and growth.
A Thought Experiment
Try this reframe: Instead of asking “Is this person my soulmate?” consider:
- Do we share core values about kindness, honesty, and growth?
- Can we navigate disagreements with mutual respect?
- Does being together make us both better versions of ourselves?
When I applied this to my now-husband during our rocky early days, I realized: Our occasional misunderstandings weren’t proof of incompatibility – they were opportunities to practice the communication skills every lasting relationship requires.
The truth is simple yet profound: Love stories aren’t discovered fully written – they’re co-authored through daily choices to show up, imperfectly but authentically, for someone equally human.
Why Your Brain Sabotages Secure Love
That restless feeling in your chest when everything seems ‘too easy’? The nagging voice whispering ‘what if someone better comes along?’? These aren’t signs you’re with the wrong person—they’re evolutionary glitches we mistake for intuition.
The Seduction of Uncertainty
Neurologically speaking, our brains process relationship anxiety and romantic passion through remarkably similar pathways. The dopamine surge we get from ‘will-they-won’t-they’ tension activates the same reward centers as early-stage infatuation. This explains why:
- Stable relationships often feel ‘boring’ compared to turbulent ones
- Dating apps become addictive despite their emotional toll
- Many confuse anxiety butterflies with genuine connection
A 2021 Stanford study found participants rated ambiguous relationships as more ‘romantic’ than secure ones 68% of the time. Your prefrontal cortex might crave stability, but your limbic system keeps chasing the thrill of unresolved tension.
Three Danger Zones for Overthinking
Through counseling hundreds of couples, I’ve identified these key moments when healthy reflection morphs into self-sabotage:
- The 3 AM Spiral
When sleep deprivation meets late-night scrolling, your brain magnifies minor concerns. That thing they forgot to do becomes evidence of fundamental incompatibility. - The Wedding RSVP Effect
Seeing peers’ curated relationship milestones triggers false comparisons. Remember: no one posts their 2 AM arguments about dishwasher loading. - The Vacation Test Trap
Expecting every shared experience to feel ‘magical’ sets impossible standards. Even soulmates get food poisoning and miss flights sometimes.
Rewiring the Anxiety Cycle
When I nearly left my now-husband during a particularly bad overthinking episode, my therapist taught me this grounding technique:
- Name the story
“I’m telling myself this doubt means we’re wrong for each other” - Check the facts
List three recent moments of quiet contentment (coffee together, inside jokes) - Separate fear from intuition
Real intuition feels calm and clear—anxiety comes with racing thoughts
Healthy relationships aren’t devoid of doubt; they’re where we learn to doubt our doubts. As attachment expert Dr. Levine notes: ‘The most secure love often feels ordinary because it’s not busy proving anything.’
The ‘Good Enough’ Relationship Toolkit
After years of chasing the elusive ‘perfect’ relationship, I finally understood what Iris Murdoch meant about love being ‘the extremely difficult realization’ — difficult because it requires us to lay down our fantasies and pick up reality. This toolkit isn’t about settling; it’s about seeing clearly. Here’s what worked when my marriage anxiety threatened to sabotage something beautiful.
Exercise 1: The Two-Column Reality Check
Left Column (Non-Negotiables)
These aren’t your ‘would be nice’ items. They’re the oxygen your relationship needs to breathe:
- Core values alignment (e.g., honesty, growth mindset)
- Mutual respect during conflicts
- Shared vision for major life decisions
Right Column (Nice-to-Haves)
The extras we often mistake for essentials:
- Always knowing the right words to say
- Never leaving dishes in the sink
- That ‘electric spark’ 24/7
My aha moment: When I realized my partner consistently showed up for my hospital visits (non-negotiable) but sometimes forgot our ‘song’ (nice-to-have), the priorities became embarrassingly clear.
Exercise 2: The 5-Minute Doubt Journal
Next time anxiety whispers ‘What if there’s someone better?’, try this:
- Name the feeling: ‘I’m feeling restless because we haven’t had deep talks this week.’
- Reality-test: ‘Has he generally been communicative? Yes. Is this a pattern or a busy week?’
- Reframe: ‘This discomfort might mean we need connection, not that the relationship is wrong.’
Pro tip: Keep these entries. Over time, you’ll see your brain’s ‘false alarm’ patterns.
When I Got It Wrong
Early in our relationship, I almost ended things because my partner didn’t match my ‘ideal’ of spontaneous adventure. My checklist said: ‘Must surprise me with Paris trips!’ Meanwhile, he was:
- Planning thoughtful weekend getaways within our budget
- Remembering my allergy restrictions at every restaurant
- Being the person I called during panic attacks
The irony? My ‘spontaneous’ ex had forgotten my birthday twice. That’s when I learned: We don’t need partners who tick every box — we need ones who consistently show up for what matters.
Try This Tonight
Before bed, share with your partner:
- One ‘good enough’ moment from your day (‘You made tea exactly how I like it’)
- One non-negotiable they fulfilled (‘I felt heard during our disagreement’)
This simple practice rewires the brain to notice what’s working — the foundation of all healthy relationships.
The Leap of Faith: When Good Enough Becomes Everything
Rain tapped against the window that Tuesday evening as I stared at the ring box in my palm. Three months of agonizing had led to this moment—not to a thunderous revelation, but to the quiet understanding that certainty might never come. The realization felt anticlimactic after years of expecting love to announce itself with fireworks. Yet there was an unexpected freedom in releasing that expectation.
Murdoch’s Wisdom for Modern Love
Iris Murdoch’s words echoed in my mind: “Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.” For months, I’d misunderstood this. I thought it meant recognizing my partner’s separateness. Only now did I grasp its deeper meaning—that true love requires surrendering our solipsistic fantasy that relationships exist solely to fulfill us.
Modern romance sells us a dangerous lie: that the right person will feel like an extension of ourselves. Murdoch’s philosophy offers the antidote. When we stop demanding that our partners complete us, we begin seeing them as complete individuals—flawed, evolving, and wholly real beyond our projections.
Tonight’s Relationship Reset
Before bed tonight, try this:
- Recall one “good enough” moment: Perhaps it’s when your partner remembered your coffee order during their busy morning, or when they sat through your work vent without trying to fix it.
- Note the absence of drama: Unlike movie love scenes, these moments likely felt ordinary. That’s their power—they reveal love’s quiet sustainability.
- Name one irreducible truth: Finish this sentence: “Even when I doubt, I know __ about us.” (Mine was: “We choose each other anew every day.”)
This isn’t about settling—it’s about shifting focus from hypothetical perfection to tangible connection. The rain kept falling that night, but the storm inside me had quieted. I slipped the ring on my finger, not because all questions were answered, but because I’d finally asked the right one: not “Is this perfect?” but “Is this real?”
