What Constitutes Success in Love? Redefining Failure in Relationships
In a world obsessed with “forever,” how do we truly measure success in love?
If you’ve ever scrolled through the Instagram account @meetcuteslondon, you’ve probably smiled at strangers on the street sharing how long they’ve been together and their one golden tip for new couples. These wholesome moments are heartwarming—but they quietly reinforce one metric: duration. The longer you’ve been together, the more “successful” your love appears.
Yet, as a Somatic Sexologist, I hear a different story from clients:
“I failed at love.”
When I gently ask what that means, the answer is almost always the same:
“I was in a long-term relationship (often a marriage), and we broke up.”
Two years. Ten years. Thirty-two years. If it ends, it’s labelled a failure.
But is that fair? Is that even true?
Why “Till Death Do Us Part” Isn’t the Only Measure of Success
Let’s imagine two scenarios:
- You were married for 8 years, divorced, but still co-parent beautifully and genuinely wish each other well.
- You were married for 8 years, and your partner passed away.
In both cases, you are no longer “together.”
Would it be kind—or accurate—to call either of these failures? Of course not.
Love is not a monogamous contract with eternity.
Love is a transformative experience.
A New Definition of Success in Love
Here’s the parameter I propose instead:
Success in love = How deeply you dared to let yourself be seen and loved, and how profoundly that love changed you for the better.
Ask yourself:
- How much did your capacity to show up authentically grow?
- How much steeper was your learning curve in communication, empathy, and boundaries?
- Did your appreciation for the very best in yourself—and in others—expand?
- Did you leave the relationship with a larger heart and wiser soul?
If the answer is yes, you didn’t fail.
You graduated.
The Beauty of “Impossible” Loves
Jungian analyst Jan Bauer explores this beautifully in her book Impossible Love: Or Why the Heart Must Go Wrong. She reminds us that many of history’s greatest love stories would today be pathologised:
- Héloïse and Abelard → labelled abusive power dynamics.
- Romeo and Juliet → codependency and family enmeshment.
In the past, these were called tragic, romantic, doomed, great passions, or even folie à deux (a madness shared by two).
Today we rush to diagnose them as neurosis, addiction, or projection.
Bauer’s point? Intense, turbulent love has always been part of the human journey. It forces us to shed old skins, question our identities, and step into new versions of ourselves—even when the story doesn’t end with a white picket fence.
As Goethe wrote:
“Ich besaß es doch einmal, was so köstlich ist—daß man doch zu seiner Qual nimmer es vergißt!”
“Once I possessed that which is so precious—that to our deep sorrow, one never forgets it!”
Stop Pathologising Your Heart
If you loved deeply and it didn’t last, please hear this:
There is nothing wrong with you for daring to love greatly.
There is nothing wrong with you for grieving what was lost.
And there is everything right with the person you became because of it.
Success in love isn’t about the number of years on the counter.
It’s about the depth of the imprint love left on your soul.
You didn’t fail.
You lived.
And that, darling, is the ultimate success.