How the Active Choice Creates Deeper, Lasting Love

You know that feeling, right? You’re sitting there, maybe on your couch, phone in hand. You swipe left. You swipe right. Every time you get a match, your heart gives a little jump. Maybe this is the one, you think. Maybe this next profile is the person I’ve been waiting for. I know that feeling so well. I lived inside that hope for years. I was on that same ride, holding on tight to a list in my head of everything my “perfect match” had to be.

My list was very specific. They had to love the same kind of music I loved—not just any music, but the exact same bands. They had to think about politics the same way I did. They even had to want the same future I wanted: two kids, one dog, and that dog had to have a name from a Greek philosopher. I thought finding my soulmate was like a treasure hunt. I believed that one day, when I finally found the right person who checked every box, I would have arrived at my destination. The search would be over. The puzzle would be solved.

Then, I met someone who changed everything. Our first date was nothing like I planned. We argued about silly things, like what you put on a hotdog. He had never seen my favorite movie. If I looked at my old list, he was all wrong for me. We did not match at all.

But talking to him felt easy. It felt comfortable and real. It felt like finding a place where I belonged. It made me stop and think: Was my list wrong? Was my whole idea of a soulmate wrong? What if the stories we hear about finding one perfect person are actually stopping us from seeing the good, real people right in front of us?

We talk about a soulmate like it’s a finish line. You look for them, you find them, and then your happy life begins. But what if that idea is making us lonely? What if it makes us ignore people who could be great for us, just because they don’t match a picture we have in our heads? Let’s try something new. Let’s forget the old map we’ve been following.

What if your soulmate is not a person you find, but something you build with a person? What if it is not about discovering a perfect match, but about choosing to create a deep connection with someone, day by day? I want to explore this idea with you.

The Myth of the "Perfect Fit"

Let’s really dig into this idea of the "Perfect Fit." I’ll be honest. I used to believe in this idea with my whole heart. I thought that my soulmate would be someone who matched me perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle. You might have felt this way too. We imagine finding someone who likes all the same things we like. They hate the same foods we hate. They have the same dreams for the future. It seems like it would be so easy, right? If we are the same, then we will never argue. We will always agree. It sounds peaceful.

I held onto this belief for so long. I had a very clear picture in my mind of what my perfect match looked like. I thought that if I just found the person who fit this picture, my life would fall into place. I was looking for my other half—someone who would complete me. I looked for someone who was just like me.

But here is what I learned, and it changed everything: People are not puzzles. We are more like gardens.

Let me explain. A puzzle piece has only one match. Its shape is fixed. It cannot change. If you try to connect it to a different piece, it just won’t work. You will ruin the puzzle. This is how I used to think about love. I had a fixed picture in my mind, and I was looking for the one person who fit my exact shape.

But a garden is different. A garden is beautiful because of its variety. You have tall flowers and short flowers. You have different colors and textures. They don’t match each other perfectly. Instead, they grow together. They share the same soil and sunlight. They create a beautiful scene because of their differences, not in spite of them.

When you look for someone exactly like you, you are not looking for a partner. You are looking for an echo. An echo just repeats back what you already say. It is comfortable, but it is not a real conversation. An echo cannot surprise you. It cannot teach you something new. It cannot help you see the world differently.

You and I, we are always changing. What we love today might be different next year. What we believe might soften or grow stronger with new experiences. If we demand that a partner matches us perfectly at all times, we are asking them to stop being a real person. We are asking them to be a frozen statue.

This dream of a perfect fit can actually make us lonely. It can make us see the wonderful differences in another person as problems or flaws. Let me give you an example from my life. I am someone who likes plans. I like to know what is happening next. My partner is much more spontaneous. At first, I saw this as a bad sign. I thought, "We don’t fit! This won’t work." His spontaneity felt messy to me.

But over time, I saw it differently. His spontaneity became a gift. He helps me let go of my strict plans and have fun in the moment. And my love for planning? It helps him feel grounded and secure. We are not two identical puzzle pieces. We are two different plants in the same garden. We help each other grow in ways we never could alone.

So, I want to ask you a question. It’s an important one. Are you looking for a copy of yourself, or are you looking for a partner to grow with?

Looking for a perfect fit is really about wanting love to be easy. We think that if we are the same, it will never be hard. But a relationship with no disagreement is often a relationship where no one is being truly honest. The small friction of your differences—when you treat each other with kindness—is what makes your connection strong and real.

The Active Choice

Okay, let’s talk about the real shift. This is where we move from a story that happens to us, to a story we write ourselves. If the old idea of a soulmate is a noun—a person you find—then the new idea is a verb. It’s an action. It is not something you are. It is something you do. It is not a title you earn. It is a choice you make, over and over.

I used to think that finding my soulmate was the finish line. I believed that once I found "The One," the work would be over. I thought love was a feeling you discovered, and then you got to live inside that feeling forever. But you know, and I know, that feelings change. They are up and down. One day you feel deeply in love, the next day you might feel annoyed or distant. If my relationship was based only on a feeling, it was built on shaky ground.

What I learned is this: The deepest love is more than a feeling. It is made of choices. It is active.

Think about what this means in your own life.

Imagine this: You wake up. Your partner forgot to do the dishes last night, again. You feel a flash of frustration. The old, noun-based story says: "This is a sign. A real soulmate would remember. Maybe they aren’t the right person." That story is passive. It just waits for things to be perfect.

The new, verb-based story says: "I choose my response." You can choose to let the frustration go. You can choose to see the person, not the dirty plate. You might choose to wash it yourself without complaining. Or you might choose to say kindly, "Would you mind doing the dishes today?" This is an action. You are building patience.

Imagine this: You come home from a terrible, hard day. You are tired and upset. Your partner is also tired. The old story whispers: "If they truly loved me, they would know exactly what I need right now." This sets a secret test they will probably fail.

The verb story is different. It says: "I can help build the comfort I need." So, you use your words. You say, "I had a really tough day. I just need a quiet hug," or "Can I tell you what happened? I don’t need advice, I just need you to listen." You are not waiting for them to read your mind. You are actively creating the connection you want. You are choosing to communicate.

Do you see how powerful this is? This shift takes your love life out of the hands of luck or fate. It puts it right into your own hands—and into the hands of the person you’re with. We are not just waiting for love to happen. We are making it happen. You are not waiting for a perfect person to be delivered to your door. You are building something real with the person beside you.

The big choice is not just the "I do" at a wedding. That is one important moment. The real foundation is made of a thousand small choices every day. It is the choice to listen when you are bored. It is the choice to make them coffee in the morning. It is the choice to laugh at a silly joke after a small argument. It is choosing to be kind instead of right. It is choosing to say "we have a problem" instead of "you are a problem."

This way of thinking is more responsible, yes. It means the strength of your bond depends on you both, not on magic. But I believe it is also more secure and more hopeful. Because now, your connection does not rely on a perfect, always-happy feeling. It relies on something you can control: your own choice to show up, to try, to build.

So, we should ask ourselves a new question. Don’t just ask, "Have I found my soulmate?" Instead, ask this: "Am I choosing to be a soulmate today?"

Am I choosing to understand? Am I choosing to help? Am I choosing to connect? When we see love as a verb, we realize we already have the power to create the deep connection we have been looking for all along. You don’t have to find it somewhere else. You can start building it right where you are.

The Bridge You Build Together

If our connection is something we build, then our communication is the bridge we make to reach each other. I want you to picture this bridge with me. It’s not just a pretty decoration. It is the strong, steady path we build between my heart and your heart. This bridge is how we share our thoughts, our fears, and our joys. Without it, we are just two people standing on separate shores, waving, but never truly meeting.

I used to think good communication meant we always agreed. I thought if you and I were right for each other, we would just know what the other was thinking. I believed that needing to explain my feelings was a bad sign. I would stay quiet and think, "If they really loved me, they would just understand." But that wasn’t fair—not to me, and not to you. It left me feeling lonely, and it left you guessing what was wrong.

Here is the truth we can learn together: A strong bridge isn’t one that never faces a storm. A strong bridge is one that holds firm through the wind and the rain. You and I will have misunderstandings. I will say things that hurt your feelings without meaning to. You will have days where you are quiet, and I won’t know why. This is normal. It is human. Being soulmates isn’t about avoiding these moments. It is about knowing how to cross the bridge toward each other in the middle of them.

So, what do we use to build this bridge? Let’s talk about the materials.

The first material is Honest Sharing. This is the strong steel of the bridge. It is me finding the courage to say, "I felt left out when you made plans without me," instead of just acting upset. It is you being able to say, "I’m really worried about money right now," instead of just seeming angry. It means sharing our true, soft feelings even when it feels scary. When we do this, we give each other a gift: the chance to really know what is happening inside.

The second material is Careful Listening. This is the solid foundation. Listening is not just waiting for your turn to talk. It is you looking at me and really trying to feel what I’m feeling. It is me asking, "What did you mean by that?" because I truly want to understand your point of view, not because I want to argue. When we listen like this, we tell each other, "Your thoughts matter to me. Your feelings are safe with me."

The third material is Fixing Things. This is the regular maintenance. Our bridge will sometimes get damaged. We will argue. We will snap at each other when we’re tired. The most important part is how we fix it. It is me saying, "I’m sorry I raised my voice. That wasn’t okay." It is you accepting my apology and maybe adding, "I’m sorry, too, for my part." It is us having a simple way to pause a fight, like saying, "Can we take a breath and start over?" This repair work makes the bridge stronger every single time.

Building this bridge is everyday work. It is me putting my book down when you want to talk. It is you squeezing my hand when I look stressed. It is asking, "How was your day?" and then actually listening to the answer. It is choosing to be kind, even when we are frustrated.

We don’t build this bridge once and then forget it. We are always building it, day by day, word by word. Some days we add something beautiful, like a shared laugh. Other days, we are just doing the simple, necessary work of checking in and saying, "Are we okay?"

This is how a deep, soulmate connection is made. Not in one magical moment of perfect understanding, but in a thousand small moments where we choose to reach out. We choose to say, "Here is what I feel." We choose to ask, "What is that like for you?" We choose to build this path between us, together. And with every honest talk and every kind listen, the bridge gets stronger, and the connection feels more and more like home.

The Dance of Compromise and Core Values

Now we come to a tricky but important part of making a relationship last. I like to think of it as a dance. In any good dance, two things matter most: the steps you take, and the floor you are standing on.

In your relationship, the steps are your compromises. They are the daily moves you make together. The floor is your core values. That is what you stand on—it doesn’t move. To dance well together without stepping on each other’s feet, you need to know the difference.

I had to learn this the hard way. I used to get it all mixed up. I thought loving someone meant giving up what I wanted on everything, big and small. I would change my plans, hide my opinions, and say "that’s fine" when it wasn’t. That made me feel lost. I wasn’t dancing anymore; I was just being led around. On the other hand, I would also dig my heels in on silly things, like arguing about the best way to load the dishwasher as if it was a life-or-death rule. I was treating small preferences like they were the most important thing.

You and I need to learn this skill: knowing what is flexible and what is fixed.

Let’s talk about the Steps: The Flexible Compromises.

These are the give-and-takes of everyday life. They are not about your deepest beliefs. They are about things like:

What movie should we watch tonight?

Do we visit your family or mine for the holiday?

Should we save money for a trip or buy a new sofa?

This kind of compromise is not about winning or losing. It is about finding a middle path so both people feel okay. It is saying, "My way isn’t the only way. Let’s find a way that works for us." Maybe you watch your movie tonight, and I pick the one tomorrow night. Maybe we spend one holiday with your family and the next with mine. This is how we build a shared life—with small, fair trades.

Now, let’s talk about the Floor: Your Fixed Core Values.

This is the solid ground under your feet. These are your deepest beliefs and needs. They are not flexible. They are about:

How you believe people should be treated (with kindness, honesty, respect).

What you need to feel safe and loved.

Your biggest dreams for your life (like wanting a family, or needing to live near your own family, or your commitment to your faith).

You cannot compromise on the floor. If you try, everything falls apart. If you need honesty to feel safe, you can’t agree to be with someone who lies. If you know you don’t want children, you can’t agree to have one to make someone else happy. That isn’t a compromise; that is breaking your own foundation.

So, how do we do this dance in real life?

First, you and your partner need to know you are standing on the same solid floor. You need to talk about your big values. Do we believe in the same big things? Do we want the same kind of life? This is the most important talk you can have.

Once you know your floor is the same, the steps become easy. You can relax. You don’t have to fight about the small stuff anymore. You can be generous about which restaurant to go to or what color to paint the bedroom, because you know it doesn’t threaten what’s underneath.

This dance needs you to pay attention. Sometimes, a small argument about money is really about a bigger value, like security or freedom. You have to stop and ask, "Is this just about a step, or is it really about the floor?"

When you get it right, this dance is a beautiful thing. You feel secure because the floor is solid. And you feel free and connected because you are moving through life together, figuring out the steps as you go. You are not soulmates because you agree on everything. You are soulmates because you agree on the ground beneath you, and you’ve promised to keep dancing together, step by step.

The Ever-Evolving Story

Here’s something we all feel but don’t always say out loud: time changes everything. You aren’t the same person you were five years ago. I know I’m not. And the person you love won’t stay the same, either. This isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s the most hopeful and real part of love. A true, lasting connection isn’t a frozen picture. It’s a story that keeps being written. The "soulmate" you need at one part of your life might be different from the one you need in the next chapter.

I used to be afraid of this. My old idea of love was like a beautiful statue—once you found it, you just admired it forever. I thought that if you were truly "meant to be," you would stay exactly the same for each other. But that’s not how life works. You lose a job. You move to a new city. You discover a new hobby. You heal from an old hurt. You grow wiser, and sometimes more tired. Life happens to you, and it happens to me. If our love is a statue, it will just sit there gathering dust while we walk away, changed.

We have to start thinking of our relationship not as a finished book, but as a story we are writing together, one chapter at a time.

Let’s walk through what those chapters might look like. Think about when you were in your twenties. Maybe that chapter was all about excitement and figuring out who you are. The love that fit then was probably full of adventure and late-night talks. It was the opening chapter of your story.

Then, maybe you entered a chapter of building. You and your partner focused on careers, or saving for a home, or making a family. The love in this chapter had to be strong and steady, like a foundation. It was less about wild adventures and more about being a team. You became co-authors, writing through stressful plots together.

Then might come a chapter all about family life—a noisy, busy, beautiful chaos. In this part, “soulmate” might not mean staring into each’s eyes over a romantic dinner. It might mean being the person you can count on at 3 a.m. with a sick child. It’s love shown through actions, through patience, through building a warm and safe world for your little ones.

Then, one day, the house gets quiet again. That chapter ends. And you and your partner look at each other and might think, “Now what? Who are we now?” This new chapter can feel scary, but it can also be exciting. It’s a chance to fall in love all over again, not with who you each were, but with who you’ve become. You get to write a new adventure, just for the two of you.

This is the important part: The love you need in one season is not the same love you need in another. The person who was a perfect partner for your adventurous twenties might need to grow into the calm, wise partner for your forties. This isn’t failing. This is growing up, together.

When we think of a soulmate as a fixed thing, these changes feel like danger. We might say, “You’ve changed!” with sadness or fear. But when we see a soulmate as a choice, then growth is the whole point. I am not choosing the person you were yesterday. I am choosing the person you are today. And I promise to keep choosing the person you are becoming tomorrow.

This way of thinking takes so much pressure off. That first spark of attraction doesn’t have to promise a lifetime of the same exact feeling. It just has to be strong enough to start a fire that you are both willing to keep feeding—through all kinds of weather, through calm nights and windy storms.

You are not just reading a story that fate handed you. You and I are the authors. We pick up the pen every single day. Some days we write happy paragraphs easily. Other days, we have to work together to get through a difficult page. But the story is ours.

So let’s learn to love the whole story, not just the first page. Let’s find the beauty in how the characters grow, how the plot twists, and how the setting changes. A soulmate isn’t someone who fits perfectly into the first draft of your life. A soulmate is your co-writer. They sit beside you through every chapter, helping you figure out what happens next, ready to create a future that neither of you could have written alone. The story doesn’t end. It just gets deeper, and richer, and more truly yours. And that is the very best part.

The Partnership You Actively Create

So, where does this leave us? After wandering through the myths and maps, the bridges and the dances, the chapters and the choices, we arrive here, together, at the heart of the matter. We’ve asked the question: Is a soulmate a destination or a choice? The answer that holds the most power and promise is clear. The most profound, enduring connections are not discoveries we stumble upon, but partnerships we actively, courageously create.

Let me be clear about what this means for you, for me, for anyone longing for a love that lasts. It means the entire story of our love lives shifts from a passive search to an active creation. You are no longer just a seeker, hoping to be found. You are a builder. I am no longer just a dreamer, waiting for a sign. I am a co-author. We are not archaeologists, delicately brushing sand away, hoping to uncover a pre-existing, perfect statue of a relationship. We are architects. We are standing side-by-side on an empty plot of land that represents your future, with blueprints we draw together, mixing mortar, laying bricks, and deciding, day by day, what kind of structure will shelter your shared lives.

This is the ultimate empowerment—and the ultimate responsibility. It means that the quality of your connection doesn’t depend on the whims of fate or the alignment of stars. It depends on the alignment of your efforts. It rests on the steady, renewable resource of your mutual choice.

Think back on everything we’ve explored. The myth of the “perfect fit” taught us that seeking a clone is a dead end. You need a companion for growth, not a mirror. The idea of the “active verb” showed us that love is what we do, not just what we feel. I must choose patience, I must choose kindness, I must choose to listen, even when it’s hard. “The bridge you build together” revealed that communication isn’t a bonus feature; it’s the essential infrastructure. We build it with honest sharing, careful listening, and dedicated repair.

We learned the delicate “dance of compromise and core values,” where we move flexibly on the steps of daily life because we stand firm on the shared floor of our deepest beliefs. And we saw our love as an “ever-evolving story,” where I choose not just the person you were, but the person you are becoming, chapter by beautiful, challenging chapter.

Pulling all of this together, we see a stunning new picture. Your soulmate isn’t a person who makes everything easy. Your soulmate is the person you want to do the hard, good work with. They are the person for whom you willingly put down your own stubbornness to pick up the tool of understanding. They are the person whose happiness becomes intricately woven into your own definition of joy.

This doesn’t make love less magical. It makes it more real. It makes it more resilient. The magic is no longer in a mysterious, external force that brought you together. The magic is in the tangible, awe-inspiring force you generate between you. It’s in the spark that flies when you truly understand each other after a long-fought conversation. It’s in the warmth that spreads when you feel deeply chosen, despite your flaws, on an ordinary Tuesday. It’s in the quiet confidence of knowing your bond is built not on sand, but on the concrete and steel of a million conscious, caring actions.

So, the call to action is this: Stop just searching. Start building. Stop auditing partners against a fantasy checklist. Start asking, “Can I build something real, lasting, and beautiful with this human?” Stop waiting for a feeling to guide you perfectly forever. Start using your hands, your words, and your heart to construct the very connection you crave.

Your soulmate isn’t out there, waiting to be found. That idea leaves you powerless. Your soulmate is a potential that lives in the space between you and another person. It is a bond waiting to be forged. It is a partnership waiting to be proclaimed and then proven, not with a grand gesture, but with the humble, daily practice of choosing each other.

You hold the tools. You have the blueprint of your values. You have the raw materials of your time, your attention, and your empathy. Now, find someone who brings their own set of tools and a willingness to build beside you. Look them in the eye and say, with your words and your actions, “I choose you. Not because you are perfect, but because I see a future I want to construct with you.”

That is the partnership you actively create. That is the choice that echoes through a lifetime. That is how you build a love so deep, so nurtured, and so intentional that the only word left for it, the truest word, is “soulmate.”