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Topic: Love & Relationships

Subtopic: Marriage

Keeping Love Alive Over the Years

Keeping love alive over many years isn't necessarily about recreating the relationship you had at the beginning. It's about allowing each other to change, learning through the difficult periods, maintaining an “us,” and continuing to choose the future you're building together.

When people talk about keeping love alive in a long-term relationship, the advice often sounds the same: keep dating each other, make time for romance, surprise your partner, don't lose the spark.

There is nothing wrong with any of those things.

But after many years with the same person, I think love becomes much more complicated—and much richer—than trying to recreate the excitement we felt at the beginning.

For me, keeping love alive has become less about holding onto what our relationship used to be and more about understanding why, after everything we've experienced and all the ways we've changed, we continue to choose each other.

There is familiarity.

There is comfort.

There is everything we've built together.

There are plans we still have for our future.

And there is an understanding of each other that simply couldn't have existed when we first met.

The Person You Fell in Love With Is Still There, But So Much Has Been Added

I met my husband when I was in my early twenties. I was working at a coffee shop inside the military base in Sigonella, Sicily, and he was in the military.

What first attracted me to him was actually very simple.

He was nice to me.

He was kind and patient.

Those qualities haven't disappeared. After all these years, my husband is still an incredibly kind person, not only toward me but toward other people.

But if someone asked me today why I love my husband and I answered only, “Because he is kind and patient,” it would feel incredibly reductive.

There are too many layers now.

When you first fall in love with someone, you don't know everything you're eventually going to know about them.

You haven't watched them navigate disappointment. You haven't seen how they respond when they're exhausted, worried, angry, scared or uncertain.

You don't know all their annoying habits yet—and they don't know yours.

You haven't built a history.

After many years, you have.

You know the wonderful parts of that person and the difficult ones. You know their strengths and weaknesses. You know what makes them laugh, what frustrates them and sometimes what they're thinking before they even say it.

At some point, love becomes difficult to reduce to a list of qualities.

I don't love my husband because of one or two things he does or because of a few characteristics I admire.

I love the whole person I have come to know, and I love what we have become together.

Love Changes Because We Change

The people we were when we met are not exactly the people we are today.

And I don't think they're supposed to be.

Life changes us.

Careers change us.

Family changes us.

Success and disappointment change us.

Health problems change us.

Age changes us.

The things we want at 25 may not be the things we want at 45, 55 or 65.

A long-term relationship has to make room for two people to evolve.

Keeping love alive doesn't mean keeping your relationship exactly as it was in the beginning. It means allowing each other to change without completely losing sight of the person you originally chose.

Sometimes we grow together naturally. Other times, one person may be changing faster or moving in a different direction for a while.

That is part of the learning process.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful things about a long relationship is being able to look at someone years later, see how different both of you have become and still recognize something familiar underneath it all.

Sometimes Love Means Leaving Someone in Their Bubble

Of course, sharing a life doesn't mean every day is peaceful.

There are days when one of us is irritated about something. You can feel the bad energy moving through the house even when nobody has said much.

Over the years, we've learned that not every bad mood needs to become a relationship discussion.

Sometimes I tell my husband:

“I'll leave you in your bubble. If and when you're ready to talk, we can talk.”

And he does the same for me.

Sometimes something happened at work or somewhere else in our lives, and we're frustrated. There are times when we don't even want to spend more energy discussing it because whatever happened doesn't deserve another hour of our day.

Giving each other space doesn't mean we don't care.

Sometimes space is exactly what the other person needs.

But there is a difference between being upset about something outside the relationship and being upset with each other.

When one of our behaviors causes the frustration, we say it.

We get mad.

We argue.

Sometimes I'm wrong.

Sometimes he's wrong.

Sometimes we're probably both a little wrong.

And then we apologize.

We move on.

I've learned that holding onto old arguments and mistakes doesn't help our marriage. If we've discussed something, apologized and decided to move forward, eventually we have to allow it to stay in the past.

Forgiveness doesn't mean pretending something never happened.

It means not continually using yesterday's mistake as ammunition for tomorrow's argument.

We Have Our Own Lives, But We Also Have a Life Together

Being together for many years doesn't mean we have to do everything together.

We both enjoy having our own time. We have different interests, responsibilities and projects, and I think maintaining some independence is healthy for us.

But we also genuinely enjoy doing things together.

It doesn't always have to be romantic or extraordinary.

Sometimes it's simply going somewhere, having dinner, making plans, watching something together or doing the ordinary things couples do.

The important part is that we still want the other person there.

There is a difference between needing your partner beside you because you don't know how to function independently and simply preferring to share parts of your life with that person.

We have our individual lives.

But we also have a life that belongs to us.

And after all these years, that us still matters.

Having a Future Together Matters Too

One thing my husband and I talk about constantly is our future.

Almost everything we're doing today connects in some way to what we're trying to build for tomorrow.

Sometimes we're working on completely different things. One of us may be focused on something that doesn't appear to have anything to do with what the other person is doing.

But underneath it, we know we have the same common goal:

Us.

Everything he is doing contributes in some way to the future we're trying to create, and everything I'm doing contributes to it too.

We know that.

But sometimes it's still nice to say it out loud.

Because after many years, it becomes easy to assume your partner already knows.

Of course he knows why I'm doing this.

Of course she knows I'm doing this for us.

There is something reassuring about hearing it again.

We're doing this for our future.

A long relationship shouldn't exist only because of everything you've already built.

There should also be something you're still looking toward together.

The plans don't have to be enormous.

What matters to me is that when I imagine what comes next, my husband is still part of the picture.

Sometimes One Person's Dream Leads the Way

Over many years together, there will probably be decisions that benefit one person more than the other.

There may be a career opportunity.

A move.

A financial decision.

A family responsibility.

A dream one person wants to pursue while the other agrees to follow.

And sometimes those decisions don't turn out the way we expected.

I would be lying if I said my husband and I have never blamed each other when that happened.

We have.

I think blame is a very human reaction when life doesn't go according to plan.

We look backward and think:

If we hadn't made that decision, maybe we wouldn't be dealing with this now.

There have been times when we put those past decisions between us.

It never helped.

It didn't improve the situation, resolve the problem or make our relationship stronger.

What helped was remembering why the decision had been made in the first place.

Every major choice we made—even when it benefited one person more than the other or when one of us was following the other's dream—was made with an honest intention to create a better life for us.

That doesn't mean every decision was right.

It means we made it together with the information, hopes and circumstances we had at the time.

Eventually, instead of continuing to ask:

“Whose fault was this?”

we had to learn to ask:

“This is where we are now. What are we going to do next?”

That lesson didn't come automatically.

It was learned.

And I think marriage itself is a learning process.

Choosing Each Other Doesn't Mean Everything Is Perfect

When people say couples should “choose each other every day,” it can sound almost too romantic.

Long-term love isn't like that every day.

There are days when you're annoyed with each other.

Days when you're exhausted.

Days when responsibilities take priority.

There are disagreements, disappointments and periods when one person needs more from the other.

Choosing each other doesn't mean pretending those things don't exist.

For me, it means that underneath the frustration, responsibilities, mistakes and changes, there is still an understanding that:

We are on the same side.

Sometimes we temporarily forget that.

Then we have to find our way back.

Keeping love alive over the years isn't about desperately trying to hold onto the relationship we had when we first met.

That relationship is gone.

And I don't think that's necessarily sad.

In its place can be something with far more layers.

There is the person you first fell in love with, but there is also the person you've watched change.

There are the things you've built.

The mistakes you've made.

The arguments you've survived.

The apologies you've accepted.

The ordinary days you've shared.

The difficult periods you've somehow found your way through.

There is familiarity.

There is comfort.

There is respect.

There is history.

But perhaps most importantly, there is still a future.

After many years, maybe keeping love alive isn't about constantly asking:

“How do we get the spark back?”

Maybe sometimes the better question is:

“After everything we've experienced and all the ways we've changed, do we still want to keep building this life together?”

For me, the answer is yes.

And maybe that is what choosing each other really means.

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