Loving Someone Long Term

I wasn’t really sure how to approach this. Even now, I’m still not certain, if we’re being completely transparent. Just take what I say with a grain of salt. 

Abeg. 

Being in a relationship with someone well-known often feels like living under a magnifying glass, where people’s curiosity adds a layer of scrutiny. Because of that, I’ve always been reluctant to discuss my love life or offer relationship advice.

Writing about this feels strange, almost obnoxious, because I’ve never been in a position where I’m so aware of others watching. I know it comes with the territory, but the truth is, I’m not him. He was made to be seen and heard, and he thrives in that space. I’m just wherever he is simply because I want to be. So no, I’m not going to pretend to be a social butterfly when anxiety beats my ass the way it does. I’m content as a wallflower. I’m not miserable, I promise… I just don’t enjoy being perceived. Take my word for it. 

That said, I’ve learned that partners don’t automatically know how to support each other in exactly the way we might need. Since we were friends first, it was essential to recognize that supporting each other as friends is different from doing so as romantic partners. The friends-to-lovers trope to is often portrayed as a smooth transition, but for me, it felt like starting from scratch. I knew that from our first kiss. Learning each other through different seasons is an ongoing process, especially with a child in the mix. It’s surreal to see someone you once regarded as a boy become a man, a father, and a partner. He often remarks on how much I’ve grown since we met, and I can say the same about him. Watching him evolve from someone who doubted himself to someone so sure of who he’s becoming is remarkable.

We’ve adapted through conversation. It’s an oversimplification, but it’s also the truth. We talk about everything, no matter how challenging. A breath of fresh air after situations where everything was always swept under the rug and feelings were constantly invalidated. I don’t take this camaraderie for granted, especially after my last relationship. Back then, I had reached a point where I was no longer truly in love, yet kept searching for reasons to stay. One thing about women? We’ll mentally check out. 
My friend, Dr Strange, calls it the “15%”—where 85% of you is ready to leave, but that remaining 15% clings to the hope of things working out. I remember wondering, if things got serious, what would we talk about over dinner? The thought of sharing a bathroom or even a bedroom felt overwhelming, and marriage suddenly became terrifying. Even my body seemingly rejected the relationship. Still, I fought for that relationship because I thought I had to—because I still cared, even if I wasn’t in love.

I don’t do that anymore. Now, I love dates, sharing meals, cooking together (he’s mostly there for distractions—there’s only one real cook between us, and it’s not him). We’re as close as can be, down to our petty arguments when we’re apart. After stripping away our past versions of ourselves in relationships, being with him feels as easy as breathing. He doesn’t really stress me out…he’s just such a guy sometimes. Even if he’s a pain in the ass sometimes, it’s okay because he’s my pain in the ass. We know how to handle each other’s evolutions now. 

I’m no relationship guru, and I’ve definitely made my fair share of mistakes along the way and still do. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that relationships are always evolving, and so are the people in them. As life brings new challenges and opportunities, the way you connect with each other will naturally shift. Sometimes, that means finding new ways to support one another or learning to communicate differently. What worked when you were just starting out might not work when you’re navigating parenthood or handling long-distance stretches. That’s okay—adapting is part of the process.

One thing I try to remember is that love isn’t just about feeling close when things are easy. It’s about sticking together through those awkward transitions and tough conversations, even when it feels like an uphill battle. Taking time to really listen, adjusting your expectations, and knowing when to give each other space can make a big difference. The connection doesn’t come automatically; you have to choose it, day by day. To me, that’s what makes a relationship meaningful, even if it isn’t always perfect.

This isn’t advice, but sometimes you need to step back from your relationship, either to better understand yourself or to gain a clearer perspective. Sometimes it’s the only way to decide whether the relationship is something you want to invest in. It’s important to recognize that not everything is a “hardship” or a natural “up and down” of a relationship. If it’s no longer working, it’s okay to leave. You have free will, you don’t have to suffer in love. 

Therapy has been invaluable too. It’s helped me show up better, though I don’t always remember to practice what I’ve learned. Having an understanding partner makes all the difference. We’re both passionate and stubborn; we trigger each other, as often happens when you’re trying to do things the healthy way.

I’ll end with a quote by Heidi Priebe, one that has resonated deeply in my relationship: 

“To love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be. The people they’re too exhausted to be any longer. The people they don’t recognize inside themselves anymore. The people they grew out of, the people they never ended up growing into. We so badly want the people we love to get their spark back when it burns out; to become speedily found when they are lost. But it is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be. It is our job to travel with them between each version and to honor what emerges along the way.”