Only choose in marriage a man whom you would choose as a friend

The French moralist Joseph Joubert, whose wisdom was gentle yet piercing, once declared: “Only choose in marriage a man whom you would choose as a friend if he were a woman.” In this brief but radiant phrase, Joubert reveals the heart of true marriage—that it must be founded not merely on passion, not merely on outward qualities, but upon the deeper ground of friendship. He warns against choosing a partner only for charm, appearance, or fleeting desire. Instead, he directs the soul to ask a higher question: Would I cherish this person as my companion, my confidant, my equal, even if the trappings of gender and romance were stripped away?

To see a potential husband through the lens of friendship is to pierce beyond the illusions that often cloud love’s beginning. Youthful desire can be intoxicating, stirring the heart with fire, yet fires that burn too fiercely consume themselves quickly. But friendship endures. It is patient, it is constant, it grows stronger with time. Joubert’s wisdom is that the man who would make a good friend—kind, loyal, trustworthy, gentle in counsel, steady in adversity—will also make a good husband. Thus, the foundation of marriage should not be fire alone, but also stone.

History itself gives us noble examples. Consider the marriage of John and Abigail Adams. Their letters reveal not only passion but also profound companionship. Abigail advised John in matters of politics; John listened to her as an equal, a friend, a partner. She was not merely his wife but his counselor and confidante. Their marriage thrived because it was built not only on love but on friendship, the very standard Joubert speaks of. Abigail would surely have chosen John as her friend had he been a woman, for their bond was deeper than romance—it was woven of trust and respect.

Joubert’s teaching also carries warning. Many have chosen partners on shallow grounds—wealth, beauty, status, or the thrill of desire—only to discover that such bonds wither when hardship comes. The man who cannot be a true friend, who lacks integrity or compassion, will fail as a husband. The passion that once seemed irresistible fades into bitterness, and the marriage becomes a prison rather than a sanctuary. To guard against this fate, one must ask not, “Do I desire him now?” but, “Would I trust him forever?”

Yet Joubert’s words are not meant to quench passion, but to ennoble it. Love built on friendship is not cold—it is warmer, deeper, and more enduring than fleeting attraction. In such a union, passion becomes renewed by respect, desire becomes strengthened by trust, and joy becomes multiplied by companionship. The husband chosen as a friend is not only a lover but a partner in life’s long journey, one who will share laughter and sorrow, victories and defeats, in harmony.

The deeper meaning is this: marriage is not only the union of bodies, but the communion of souls. And souls cannot remain bound by passion alone; they require understanding, trust, and friendship. Joubert calls us to look past the illusions of outward charm and seek the inward treasures that make friendship noble: honesty, loyalty, kindness, and wisdom. These are the pillars upon which love, if it is to endure, must rest.

The lesson for us is clear. When you choose a partner, ask yourself Joubert’s question: would I love this person as a friend, even if romance were absent? If the answer is yes, then you have found a foundation strong enough for marriage. But if the answer is no, beware—for passion without friendship is like a flame without fuel: bright at first, but soon extinguished.

Thus, let the words of Joseph Joubert echo across the generations: choose in marriage not only a lover, but a friend. For friendship is the hidden fire that warms the heart long after passion fades, and it is the true measure of a union destined to endure both the storms of life and the calm of its passing days.