Look, it’s not just a question we ask about the person we’re dating or married to. It’s bigger than that. It’s a question that – if you let it – could rewrite the script of your life.
Do they make you better?
Not richer. Not more comfortable. Not a little more at ease at the next family dinner when your aunt Susan asks for the hundredth time when you’re getting married. I’m not talking about someone who knows how to laugh at your jokes or split the check. I’m talking about the person who, by sheer proximity, makes you want to stand up a little straighter. Think a little deeper. Run a little faster.
Let me paint the scene. You’re standing at the edge of the metaphorical cliff. It’s high. The view’s great. But you’ve been here a while, haven’t you? Thinking about the jump. Wondering if you’ve got it in you to take the next big step. And then they walk up beside you, no fanfare, no sweeping gesture, no music swelling in the background. They just look at you and say, quietly, “You’ve got this.”
You’ve heard the words before. From your mom, your third-grade teacher, maybe a motivational speaker on a podcast. But this time, it lands. Because they know you. They’ve seen you at your best and at your absolute worst and they still believe you’ve got it.
That’s what a good partner does.
They’re not the hero of your story; they’re the reason you become the hero. They ask the questions you’ve been avoiding. They tell you the hard truths, not because they’re trying to cut you down, but because they know you can take it. Because they believe in the version of you that’s been waiting to come out.
They don’t clap the loudest when you win – they clap the smartest. They’re the ones who knew you had it in you long before the world did.
But here’s the kicker. They also make it safe to fail. They remind you that if you trip and fall flat on your face, they’ll be there, extending a hand, already halfway through saying, “Let’s go. Let’s try again.”
In the world of screenplays, we’d call this the character who isn’t just a love interest – they’re the catalyst. The force that propels the protagonist forward. They don’t need the spotlight; they know their role is to help you find yours.
So, let me ask again, and this time, answer like the credits are about to roll:
Do they make you better?
Because if they don’t – if you’re the same person you were a year ago, five years ago, ten – then maybe it’s time to ask yourself what kind of story you’re writing.
And if they do?
Tell them, tell them now. Because the world’s loud and messy and fast, and the people who make us better deserve to hear it.