Soul Mates

Have you ever asked yourself what being in love actually means?  What is love?

My very first thought when someone asks this question is to immediately respond with "Baby don't hurt me.  Don't hurt me.  No more."

Night at the Roxbury?  Haddaway?  Saturday Night Live?  Anyone?  Well, I thought it was funny.

Seriously though, its a common question with a very complicated answer.  Unlike the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything, it is not 42.

You can ask the question in several different ways.

Philosophically.  What is love in the grande scheme of the universe?  What does it really mean to us, to our very souls?

Physically.  How do you actually feel when you are in love?  Is it a specific sensation?

Psychologically.  What changes inside your head when you finally make that connection to someone special, and how is it different from a "crush?  How do you know when you're in love?"

When I was a young girl in my early teenage, hormone driven years, I thought I knew exactly what love was.  Love was when you got that tingly sensation in your whole body when you were around someone you liked.  It made you act goofy and want to do anything to make that other person happy.

Of course, my parents were divorced and had both been remarried a few times.  So I honestly had nothing to base this theory on.

When I was in my early twenties, I had a completely different outlook on love.  I was less optimistic and theorized that love was a chemical reaction that could be reproduced by eating large quantities of Chunky Monkey ice cream while taking a long bubble bath and reading a really good book.

Of course the end result of that is going to bed alone and dreaming of the brawny hero of your romance novel and gaining a few pounds in your thighs.  It wasn't exactly a suitable alternative.

Being single is a lonely feeling.  Especially the older you get.  Its like there's this deep seeded need for another half of you that's been ingrained in your soul.  According to ancient Greek myth, humans originally had four arms, four legs, and two heads.  The god Zeus was afraid of the strength of the humans, so he split them as punishment for their pride.  The halved humans were in misery and longed for the lost pieces to their bodies.  Its said that when they one day found their other half, it was as if they just knew, and they found eternal happiness.

Maybe this is the reason for our lonely despair.

But if the story is to be believed, that would mean that love is something that happens to us.  Its something that just falls into our laps.  Its a lovely and romantic notion.  Two people walking along a busy street one day and they bump into each other.  Eyes meet, they smile, and they just.....know.  Its beautiful.

But its hardly logical.

As a romance writer, its almost sacrilege to admit that the concept of soul mates is not something I believe in.  Its just....unrealistic.  Real, honest to goodness love, is not something you fall into, its not something that Ben and Jerry's can package in a little cardboard container, and it isn't something you can find inside a paperback.

So then what exactly is love?

As a married woman, there have been moments in my marriage where I've looked over at my husband and wondered "What would my life be like without him?"  Of course, having that question in my heart would leave me with this sense of guilt.  After 10 years of marriage, I'm not supposed to wonder this.  I'm not supposed to question my love for the man I pledged to spend the rest of my life with.  But I still do.  Am I really in love, or is this just a comfortable situation that benefits both parties?

We've had our share of ups and downs.  We even had a moment a few years ago where I was absolutely sure that we wouldn't make it through.  I left him.  I packed up my bags, grabbed my laptop, and just left.  Of course, I came back.  He's a stubborn fool who didn't accept no for an answer and he wore me down.  But I'm glad I came back.  Honestly, I can't survive without him.  I think I forgot how.

But that's not love.

Then something happened to me last night.  In the middle of Wisconsin's second "polar vortex" this year, our car suddenly decided to blow a radiator hose.  It was 8 pm and my kids and I were on our way to pick up my husband from work.  The wind chill was around -30 degrees and here we were, sitting by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, freezing.  I frantically call my husband and beginning screaming incoherently into the phone that I had no idea what to do.  A panic attack was fully underway as he began telling me over and over to calm down.

 I should mention now that I don't do well thinking under extremely stressful situations.

While my scattered thoughts were on how to get home and if my kids were warm enough, my husband's first action was to begin walking.  He could have stayed in the warmth of the restaurant he works at, sipping hot coffee and waiting for me to figure something out.  He could have simply said "Its way too cold and it would take me several hours to get to you.  There's no point."  But he didn't question it.  Not once.  My husband, my frustrating, stubborn as mule, sometimes aggravating husband, began walking in subzero weather to get to us.  I told him he was stupid and he should just stay there, that he could get severe frost bite from not wearing enough layers, that he could actually, legitimately DIE from exposure.

I wasn't exaggerating.

Thankfully he only had to walk a half hour before we figured out that we could drive the car still.  We just had to watch the gauge to make sure it stayed within a certain temperature.  I drove to pick him up, he bought me and the kids hot chocolate at the gas station, and after 3 hours and several stops to cool off the car, we finally made it home.

I want to go off topic for a moment here to say that first degree frost bite seriously feels like someone smashed your toes with a sledge hammer when it begins to thaw.  There were no serious injuries and after some hot tea, cocoa, apple cider, and coffee, warm cuddles on the couch, and turning the thermostat up to 80 degrees, we were all feeling much better.

Once the entire ordeal was over, I thought about the sacrifice my husband made for me.  He knew I needed him and he was willing to risk his own life for me.  In all honesty, I could have been dead before he got to me.  But that didn't matter.

But then I wondered to myself, would I have done the same thing?  Of course, I never would have risked the kids.  But if it had been just me, would I have attempted to walk the five miles to get to him in the subzero weather if he needed me?  In a heart beat.

So then I think back to that question I asked myself before, "What would my life be like without him?"

What would I have done if I'd been single, sitting on the side of the road in subzero weather with a busted radiator hose?  Truthfully, I would have ended up calling 911.  My Dad would never have heard his phone ring, there are no 24 hour taxis in Racine, and my best friend lives over 2,000 miles away.  There was nothing else I could have done.

I would have been utterly alone.

I can't explain what it feels like to know that someone is willing to actually die for you.  Its something we talk about, a romantic notion that's highly fictionalized in stories.  But real life?

I imagined different people in my life being in my situation and I try to think if I would have braved that weather for them.  My kids?  Without a doubt.  My best friend?  You bet.  My Dad?  My Step-Mom?  Yes and yes.

So maybe that's what love really is.  Its not doing what ever it takes to make someone happy.  Its knowing that that person needs you and doing whatever it takes to get to them.  Its braving the worst sort of storm so that you can hold them because they're panicking and scared.  Its wanting to take the pain that they feel and bear it yourself because you can't stand to see them cry.

Love is not a "feeling."  Love is not something that falls into your lap.  Love is not Chunky Monkey ice cream.

Love is an infuriating man who is a pain in my ass on his good days, but willing to stupidly kill himself for me on my worst days.  He's not my soul mate, he's my protector, my strength, and my partner.

And I love him for that.