My husband and I have known each other literally all
our lives, as our parents were best friends before we were born. We spent a lot
of time together as children and into our mid-teens, but we were never
romantically inclined--we were weekend friends. Then he went his way and I
mine, with neither of us seeing each other again for 7-8 years.
I married another when I was 20, believing he was my soulmate. We divorced after fifteen months; our son was 6 weeks old.
Two years later my son and I, along with my childhood friend, unexpectedly found ourselves at a mutual friend's house. The three of us were instantly attracted to one another. My little boy, who was very standoffish with the men I had dated after divorcing, immediately climbed into his lap and called him daddy. A year and a half later we were married; two weeks after the wedding, my husband adopted my son.
Forty years have passed and we're still attracted, still happily married.
Around 12 years ago there was an internet experiment to bring diverse people together, to see if they could get along in a civil manner over a contentious subject. Five of us, from various parts of the world, formed a nearly instant bond.
When the experiment ended several months later, we five didn't want to part, so we exchanged email addresses. We had become 'invisible' friends--definitely soulmates--connected through our keyboards, sharing our love of many of the same things, a common sense of humor, spiritual beliefs (consisting of "do unto others" and an attitude of "live and let live"), and a desire to have left the world a better place when it's our time to move on.
When the eldest of the group died early last year, we were all as devastated as we would have been for a close family member. We held each other up during a period of mourning, each afraid the group might now shatter. But we had nothing to worry about, as we still share everything on a daily basis. In spite of differences of opinion on many subjects, our feelings for each other have deepened over the years.