https://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/love-in-the-age-of-big-data/

I met my boyfriend in 2009 at a dinner party I'd thrown to impress somebody else. He came in late, beautiful in his crisp work clothes. The chemistry was immediate. Over a series of dates, I learned he was sweet and giving, with strong ethics and a fascinating mind. We lived on separate sides of the country where we resided at the time, and we had heady months of meeting in romantic towns in the middle, eating figs and cherries we bought straight off of farms, learning about ourselves as we were reflected in each other. Much of the time, I think we made each other feel more capable, more hopeful for the future. But there were also times when we made each other feel more confused than we'd ever been in our lives. The desire to love each other was there, and yet it was with exasperation that we recognized we each sometimes didn't feel loved. What were we doing wrong? It didn’t seem clear.

https://holapapi.substack.com/p/does-the-one-exist

I was right, in a way. I never met another Thomas. And you know? I never will. I often see him in bits and pieces: his eyes here, his smile there, his weird laugh, his nasty nail-biting habit, always in other people. But none of them are him, of course. And the thing is, Soulmate, that’s completely fine. Because I know that I’m lucky for having experienced what I did with him, and I’m lucky to still have a lot left to experience with other people. I have more true loves to hold, both platonic and romantic.