He’s Not the Man I Fell in Love With — He’s Better
TikTok video from 2022-04-12
Hey, I’m Lisa—the Poly Wife—and this one’s been sitting with me for a while. It started as a quiet thought during a rough patch with my husband. And let’s be real—after 34 years of marriage, you’re bound to hit a few of those. Love is not a static thing. It bends. It shifts. It breaks down and rebuilds itself, sometimes more than once.
I remember sitting in the middle of one of those tough stretches and thinking: What was it about him that made me fall in love in the first place? What did I see in him back when I was 23?
And then it hit me—he’s not that guy anymore. And I don’t want him to be.
The truth is, I’ve fallen in love with him more than once—over and over again, with different versions of him. With the man he became when we were broke and building a life. With the man who showed up for me when I was reinventing myself. With the man who let me explore polyamory without fear, without shame, and without holding me back. Every few years, there’s a new him. And every time, I find something else to love.
There’s this cultural script that tells us we fall in love once, and then we just... ride it out. As though passion should stay fixed in time, as though the version of someone you marry at 23 should be enough to carry you all the way through your 50s and beyond.
But the people we love change. And we change too.
What made me swoon at 23—a sense of humor, a great singing voice, confidence and charisma—those are still lovely parts of him. But they’re not what would sweep me off my feet now. My needs are different. My standards have evolved. I’ve grown into a different woman.
And he’s kept growing, too.
That’s the part that matters most. He didn’t freeze in place. He didn’t ask me to stay the same, either. He’s changed, and I’ve changed—and we’ve both made the conscious choice to keep showing up for each new version of each other.
A few years ago, our marriage took another turn—we opened it up. Polyamory wasn’t a sign that something was broken. It was a way to grow with each other, to honor that one person might not be able to meet every single need we have. And instead of resisting that truth, we embraced it.
And you know what? That decision didn’t pull us apart. It brought us closer.
He’s happy when I’m happy. If I’m on a date and he hears me laughing, really laughing—he lights up. That’s his signal that I’m good. That I’m fulfilled. That I’m loved in ways he knows I deserve to be.
That kind of security? That kind of partnership? That only comes from years of doing the work. Of loving each other not just as we were—but as we are, again and again.
When people say, “I could never do what you’re doing,” I get it. Because loving someone through change requires trust. It requires patience. And it requires the willingness to let go of who they were—and fall in love with who they’ve become.
So here’s my question to you:
If you’ve been in a long-term relationship—what keeps the love alive? What parts of your partner still spark joy, still make your heart skip, still make you laugh out loud?
What’s different now that makes your love better?
Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: longevity doesn’t keep a relationship alive. Growth does. Intimacy does. Choosing each other again and again, even when you're no longer the people who first said "I do"—that’s where the real magic lives.
