Time wore it down — but it still held me
There was a time when love felt like the most exhilarating thing in the world. And for a while, it was everything.
When we first met, it started with screens and Skype. I remember those hours we spent talking, where words never seemed to run out. What we talked about? I couldn’t tell you now, but I remember how it felt—infatuation, excitement, the kind of joy that makes your heart race and your thoughts spin. It was pure elation. The anticipation of what we might one day become together felt real, and for the first time, I had a reason to smile all the time.
Then we finally met. I remember running into his arms at the airport. The moment I saw him in person, I was filled with a sense of wonder, disbelief, and pure joy. This was the day I had been dreaming of for so long, and now it was finally real. I couldn’t stop touching him, holding his hand, and feeling like I was right where I belonged. We were obsessed, entwined in a world of our own, young, in love, and feeling like the future was ours for the taking.
I wish we could hold onto that feeling forever, that sense of floating that comes with the start of something new. But time moves on. And seven years later, the initial spark of excitement fades as life unfolds. Parenthood, bills, stress, all the things we didn’t think about when we were first falling in love
.
What happens over time is that life wears on you. You start taking each other for granted, forgetting the little things that made you fall in love in the first place. The thrill of seeing each other dims. You’re not 23 anymore. You’re 30 with real responsibilities. And sometimes, the weight of everything else pushes love to the background. But that doesn’t mean it disappears. It just becomes something different. Something worn-in.
Even when we can’t stand each other, we love each other. Seven years ago, if someone had told me that there would come a time when we would argue, maybe even resent each other, I would’ve been horrified. Back then, we thought we were perfect for each other, that the love we felt would always shield us from the imperfections. But life happened. We fought. We disagreed. We learned. And as we grew, we found that our love didn’t look the same anymore. But it didn’t make it any less real.
The truth is, no, I don’t jump into his arms anymore when I see him. At the end of the day, I’m too tired to muster up that kind of excitement. What we have now is comfortable. It’s a love built on years of shared moments, experiences, and challenges. It’s the comfort of knowing he’s here, even when he’s just playing his video games in the next room. It’s a love that doesn’t need to be loud to be real. His presence fills the emptiness, and while it can drive me nuts sometimes, it’s still home.
Worn-in love is the kind of love that’s been lived in, that’s been tested by time and circumstance. It might not have the thrill of new love, but there’s something deeply special about it. It’s like your favorite old t-shirt. When you first get it, it’s exciting and new, a little stiff, but it holds promise. And over time, it softens. It becomes familiar. It becomes the thing you reach for because it feels like home, even if it’s a little worn out now.
I have an old t-shirt from a college event in 2009. It’s faded, it’s been worn a thousand times, and sometimes I get tired of looking at it. But it’s still the most comfortable thing I own. And that’s what it’s like with him. After all this time, it’s not about the excitement anymore. It’s the comfort. It’s the quiet love that feels safe and sure. It’s knowing that, even when the world changes, this love has endured.
And that’s the love we built. We’ve created something that no one else will ever experience with us: we bought a home, we made children, we built a family. Those experiences are worth so much more than that initial rush of new love. And now, as we go our separate ways, I see that love differently. It’s a love that isn’t defined by the fairy tale we once imagined, but by the life we created, the lessons learned, and the memories made.
It didn’t last forever, but it was real. And for a time, it was everything.
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