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Plato proposed that humans were once beings with four arms, four legs, and two faces. Peace reigned, great things were achieved, until the spiteful Zeus came to be jealous and fearful of humanity's power, rending us in two and condemning each soul to walk the earth in search of its other half. Many people upon hearing this, think it romantic, that every person on Earth is destined one day to fall in love with another and reunite in matrimony. These people are, frankly, terminally closed-minded.
The other half of one's soul is not necessarily a romantic partner, much less a spouse. It may be a sibling, a child, a parent. It may be a great passion one commits the whole of themself to researching. One's other half may be a whale, as in the case of Captain Ahab. It may be the skeleton of a dinosaur. Or it may be a companion with whom one's bond survives every hardship life can bestow. A companion whom, upon witnessing your apparent return from Hades, faints to the floor and embraces you upon reviving. Who insists on hearing the entire tale of your absence and return, and agrees to accompany you to tame a tiger. Who, when you are overpowered by that beast of a man, strikes the fellow over the head with the butt of his revolver. A companion who agrees to do so over and over and over again. A companion who smiles in the darkness from his familiar chair on the other side of the fire, and makes even one who recoils at the very notion of love believe that Plato was right.