Why Superman Isn't My Soul Mate

Superman and I used to date back in the late 1980s. All my boyfriends after Superman felt incredibly insecure, and who could blame them? Superman's rock-hard physique and his Kryptonian-on-Earth powers made him unbelievably sexual. I had pictures of him in my room, and, even though I was dating him, I would dream about him in bed with the lights off.

Sometimes, before I left for work, I'd stare at his square jaw and remember our perfect embraces while flying over Metropolis. My Man of Steel had perfectly supple hair. I'd run my fingers through it whenever he chivalrously kissed me. There was something so pure, so powerful, and so invulnerable about him. I loved him like someone loves their high school sweetheart: complete surrender.

After about 2 years though, I began to see his flaws. Yes, the Last Son of Krypton is perfectly moral and practically immortal, but I began to see past his invincibility. I couldn't love a Kryptonian--at least not a Kryptonian on Earth. The only thing that could hurt him was Kryptonite, and that bothered me.

Superman would simply put his one true weakness in a lead box and hide it. With the Kryptonite safely stored away, my dear Superman was forever invulnerable. But who wants to fuck perfection? I felt like he was always judging me while I was naked. I put on a few pounds, and I'm sure his vision saw everything.

I gave him my love. I gave him my intimacy. He knew all my secrets. And that is dangerous because I'm simply a regular woman. For humans, romantic intimacy is giving your partner your true self. Your partner with whom you are intimate, will know all the ways to hurt you because they know all about you. True intimacy is giving your personal version of "Kryptonite" to your partner and trusting that they will not use it against you. Superman had my Kryptonite. He knew how to make me cry. He knew how to make me angry. He knew how to make me vulnerable. Superman had my Kryptonite, but he never gave me his. "It's too dangerous to give it to you. I'll keep it safe in my Fortress of Solitude. Don't worry."

Maybe he didn't trust me. Maybe he didn't want to risk his life. But being a soul mate is about reciprocity. I couldn't stay with a man, even a super man, if we weren't equal partners risking equal amounts of ourselves. I would never, ever, use the green rock against him, but I wanted him to trust me enough to give me a piece. Even a small shard.

I see him every now and then. He's tried to make himself more human with Superman For All Seasons and Red Son, but I know that stupid "S" on his chest is as impenetrable as ever. I need a human. I need someone who knows what it's like to have mortal, ephemeral blood pumping through their veins. The woman in me might concede some meaningless sex; after all, he is the man of steel. But I will never again give him my heart.