You're not looking for perfection in your partner. Perfection is

In the gentle wisdom of her heart, Karen Salmansohn, a modern sage of love and self-understanding, once wrote: “You're not looking for perfection in your partner. Perfection is all about the ego. With soulmate love, you know that true love is what happens when disappointment sets in — and you're willing to deal maturely with these disappointments.” These words, though spoken in our time, carry the spirit of the ancients. They speak not of the fleeting sweetness of romance, but of the enduring power of love that matures through the storms of imperfection. In them lies a truth that lovers of every age must learn: love is not the search for flawlessness, but the sacred work of growth, acceptance, and grace.

The origin of Salmansohn’s insight comes from her long journey through the study of human emotion and resilience. Through heartbreaks and healing, she learned what many never do — that the longing for perfection in another is the voice of the ego, not the soul. The ego seeks control; it desires a partner who reflects its own imagined ideal. But the soul seeks truth — a connection that challenges, refines, and humbles us. When Salmansohn speaks of “soulmate love,” she speaks not of a fantasy union without struggle, but of two souls who stay when the illusions fade, who choose love again when the glitter of infatuation has dimmed.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. The philosopher Plato, in his dialogue The Symposium, spoke of the soul’s desire not for a perfect partner, but for completion through mutual striving. In his myth, humanity was once whole, split in two by the gods, and each half now wanders the earth searching for its lost counterpart. Yet even when the halves meet, they must labor to know and love each other fully. The divine reunion does not end their struggle; it transforms it. So too, says Salmansohn, love is not proven in moments of delight but in the hours of disappointment, when we face the gap between who we imagined and who stands before us — and choose to stay.

Consider the story of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, whose marriage, like many, was marked by trials of betrayal, distance, and difference. Yet instead of shattering, their bond evolved. Eleanor chose not to flee, but to transform her pain into understanding; Franklin, in turn, came to respect her independence and courage. They became companions not in perfection, but in purpose — partners who, despite human flaws, grew into greatness together. Their love, though imperfect, bore fruit that shaped nations. It was not a romance without disappointment, but a union strong enough to endure it.

“True love is what happens when disappointment sets in,” Salmansohn writes — and this is the crucible of maturity. For love, in its highest form, is not sustained by constant pleasure but by commitment through discomfort. It asks us to see our partner not as an idol, but as a mirror. Every frustration reveals something about our own expectations, our pride, our fear. When we meet those moments not with blame but with patience, not with anger but with empathy, we enter the sacred work of love. Thus, disappointment becomes not the end, but the beginning — the soil where compassion grows.

To understand this kind of love is to abandon the childish notion of perfection. Perfection, as Salmansohn says, belongs to the ego — to the part of us that fears vulnerability and clings to control. But mature love is humble; it bows to the mystery of being human. It recognizes that the beloved, like oneself, is a work in progress — a constellation of beauty and flaw, light and shadow. The true soulmate is not the one who completes you effortlessly, but the one who challenges you gently, forgives you generously, and stands beside you as you both stumble toward wholeness.

So, dear listener, let this teaching sink into your heart: seek not the perfect partner, but the honest one, the kind one, the one who will stay when the curtain falls on the fantasy. And when disappointment comes — as it must — do not flee. Instead, ask, “What can this teach me about love?” For every trial is an invitation to grow softer, wiser, and more real. Love deeply, not because it is easy, but because it transforms you.

And thus, as Karen Salmansohn reminds us, the soul’s greatest teacher is not perfection, but disappointment faced with maturity. When love endures through the imperfect, it becomes holy. When we choose understanding over pride, tenderness over ego, we discover the quiet miracle of soulmate love — not a flawless union, but a partnership of truth, patience, and infinite compassion. This is the love that survives, the love that sanctifies, the love that, even amid imperfection, reflects the divine.