YOUNG, Being a twin means knowing your soulmate FREE AND from birth. But is it keeping me single? TWINGLE
A MESSAGE FLASHED UP ON MY phone: ‘So, are we still on for tonight?’ I’d already ignored two of Ash’s* calls. He’d made me laugh with his cheeky one-liners on Tinder, but now I was supposed to meet him IRL I couldn’t face going out on a date. Not because I was nursing some recent rejection, or even a hangover. In fact, the real reason was sat next to me on the sofa with a Deliveroo on her lap: my sister and housemate Salma. It was then that I realised the truth – I can’t be bothered with dating because I have a twin.
I realise it sounds odd to not even spend a couple of hours apart, but this wasn’t the first time I’ve cancelled on a guy to spend time with Salma instead. Two years ago, my ex-boyfriend booked a getaway to Barcelona. But rather than looking forward to romantic walks down Las Ramblas, I was dreading being away from my twin for two whole weeks, scrabbling for Wi-fi so we could Whatsapp. On the morning before we were set to leave, I cancelled, faking a work emergency. I felt a pang of guilt but it was short-lived; I was secretly relieved that we wouldn’t be separated. Seven months in, Charlie* and I split up anyway.
While friends joke that Salma and I are joined at the hip, they don’t realise the extent of our bond – our need to be together. Even our mum was shocked when she stumbled upon our constant
messages to each other. She has often told us she worries about us moving on with our separate lives. It’s something we thought about when choosing our universities – Kent for me, Sheffield for Salma. But a few weeks before we left, excitement turned to dread – I didn’t know how I’d cope with Salma so far away. But if anything, the distance enhanced our bond – we spoke and messaged constantly. And when I studied in Florida during my third year, Salma adapted her schedule to US time – even risking her grades by missing classes – so we could message on my time.
I’ve started to wonder if I struggle to find a soulmate because, essentially, I was given one at birth. When you’re a twin, you have the sense that you have someone there who doesn’t really want anything from you apart from your company. With men there’s always some expectation – sex, attention or the desire to move on to the next stage. With Salma, there’s no pressure, I’m at my most comfortable and I can talk to her about anything. Although – and I know it might sound funny – I can’t seem to talk to her about sex.
We’ve always had our own secret world; we have an older sister, Jannah, who has often said she feels separate from us. As children, we’d go to the seaside and Jannah would be scared of going in the sea. But Salma and I were reckless – we’d paddle out in our inflatable boat just so we could be alone and together. That’s what we and, I guess, all twins share – the ability to be alone and together at the same time.
I’m beginning to realise that my reluctance to go on a date is less about the two-hour separation and more about a deeper concern over where that date might lead. If it goes well, then potentially that means a relationship and that could stand in the way of the bond we’ve crafted. I worry that letting someone in would diminish the strength of what we have.
Of course, I’m not the only twin who finds it difficult to sustain a relationship. A 2012 study in Denmark found that more twins than non-twins remain unmarried. The study suggests that as twins are companions from birth, they don’t have the same ‘need’ for marriage.
But it doesn’t quite cut both ways. Being a twin hasn’t stopped Salma from fifinding a boyfriend; she’s been in a relationship with Gareth for three years.
We get on well but there’s a tension between the three of us. I feel a twinge of guilt when I message her on Sunday mornings asking if she’s going to catch the first train back home, and she’s even delayed moving in with him after I told her I’d be lonely without her. I’m not sure Gareth realises the extent that I influence their relationship – even down to which weekend she spends with him. Is that selfish? Probably. But it’s part of my hard-wiring, too. I want to protect our relationship as twins for as long as I can.
That’s not to say I’m naïve about what lies ahead. There will come a time when Salma will move out, when our focus will flip. That’s why, a few months ago, I started dating again – only this time, I decided to set my sights on someone who has their own close bond with a sibling.
So when I met James, a 27-year-old finance manager who revealed on our first date that he had a twin sister, I thought I could take a chance on a relationship again. He understands my dynamic with Salma – he didn’t flinch when I brought her along on a couple of our dates. He’s just asked if I’d like to go on holiday with him – will I be able to tear myself away?
Salma says: ‘I’m the first to admit that I don’t invest in my relationship as much as I could. But it’s important that Layla knows we don’t have to jeopardise our relationships with other people – ours will always stand the test of time.’
‘I WORRY THAT LETTING SOMEONE IN WOULD DIMINISH THE STRENGTH OF WHAT SALMA AND I HAVE’