There is a peculiar thing that happens when a relationship becomes secure. We finally get what most of us wanted in the first place: certainty. We know the other person loves us. We know they’ll be there tomorrow. We stop wondering whether they’ll call, whether the date went well or whether they’re as interested as we are.

This is, by almost any measure, progress. Except that some of the behaviour that created the relationship in the first place can disappear along with the uncertainty.

Think about how you behaved when you first started dating your partner. You probably put more thought into what you wore when you met them. You noticed when they had changed something about their appearance. You sent messages for no particular reason. You found excuses to touch them. You planned things because you wanted to impress them. You stayed up later than you should have because neither of you wanted the evening to end.

Then, eventually, you got comfortable.

And comfort is wonderful. But comfort has a strange side effect: when we know someone isn’t going anywhere, we can stop doing some of the things that made them want to stay.

We stop trying to impress each other

Trying to impress someone has acquired a slightly negative reputation. It sounds performative, as though we’re pretending to be someone we’re not.

But there is another kind of impressing someone that has nothing to do with pretending. It’s making an effort because their reaction matters to you.

You cook something ambitious because you want them to love it. You dress particularly well because you’re going somewhere together. You plan a surprise. You learn how to make their favourite cocktail. You take them somewhere you discovered because you know they’ll like it.

Early in a relationship, these things happen naturally. You are still competing, in a sense, for someone’s attention and affection. Later, you know you already have them. Perhaps that’s exactly when you should occasionally try to earn them again.

We stop looking at each other

Not seeing each other. Looking at each other. There’s a difference.

When you’re attracted to someone new, you notice them constantly. You watch them walk into a room. You notice what they’re wearing. You notice their hair. You watch their face when they’re telling a story. You look at them when they’re not looking at you.

Years later, your partner can walk through the room while you’re looking at your phone and barely register. This isn’t because you’ve stopped finding them attractive. Familiar things simply demand less of our attention. Your brain is extremely efficient that way. It stops examining what it already knows.

So occasionally examine them again. Look at your partner across a restaurant. Watch them getting ready. Notice what they’re wearing. Pay attention to their face when they laugh. Tell them when they look good instead of merely thinking it.

Being noticed by someone who has seen you thousands of times can feel surprisingly good.

We stop touching without a reason

Early relationships contain an enormous amount of unnecessary touching.

A hand on someone’s back as you walk through a doorway. Legs touching under a table. Holding hands in a cab. An arm around a waist while waiting for something. A kiss that isn’t hello, goodbye or goodnight.

Then life gets practical. Touch becomes functional. Move over. Can you pass that? Your shoulder hurts, so I’ll massage it. Goodnight kiss. See you later kiss.

Physical affection can gradually become something that happens at predictable moments, or as a prelude to sex, rather than something scattered throughout the day. Touch doesn’t always need to be going somewhere.

Sometimes it can simply say: I’m here, you’re here, and I still like being close to you. We stop asking questions because we think we know the answers

When you’re getting to know somebody, curiosity is almost automatic. What do you think about this? Would you ever do that? Where would you live if you could live anywhere? What were you like when you were 16?

Eventually, you accumulate enough information to build a fairly convincing model of the person. You know what they’ll order. You know which holidays they’ll reject. You know what they’ll say about the film. You know how they’ll react to your suggestion before you’ve finished making it.

And quite often, you’re right. But sometimes you’re not. People change quietly. Their ambitions change. Their fears change. Things they once wanted stop mattering. Things they dismissed become interesting. The person you have been living with for ten years has been having experiences for those ten years too.

There is something slightly dangerous about believing you have finished discovering someone.

We stop creating anticipation

One of the most enjoyable parts of early dating happens when you aren’t together.

You have plans on Friday and spend Thursday thinking about them. A message arrives in the afternoon and changes the mood of the rest of your day. Someone says, “I have something planned for tonight,” and refuses to tell you what it is.

Anticipation is part of the pleasure. Long relationships can become very efficient at removing it. You share calendars. You discuss plans. You know where you’re going, what time you’re leaving and probably what you’re ordering. 

Efficiency is useful for running a household. It is less useful for seduction.

You don’t need elaborate surprises. Send a message saying you’ve planned something for later. Tell your partner to be ready at seven without telling them where you’re going. Put something in their bag for them to discover. Suggest that they shouldn’t make plans tonight. Give them something to wonder about. 

We stop behaving as though we could still surprise each other 

Perhaps this is the biggest one. After enough years together, it is easy to believe there are no surprises left. You’ve heard the stories. Seen the moods. Survived the arguments. Travelled together. Been sick around each other. Seen each other naked, exhausted, angry, ridiculous and asleep with your mouth open.

What mystery could possibly remain? Plenty, if you create some. Do something your partner wouldn’t expect you to suggest. Take them somewhere you’ve never been. Learn something together. Change the way you spend an ordinary evening. Ask a question you’ve never asked. Initiate affection at an unexpected moment. Do something slightly outside the version of you that your partner thinks they know.

There is something exciting about being surprised by a person you thought you had completely figured out. 

Security shouldn’t mean retirement

You shouldn’t have to behave as though you’re on a permanent first date. That would be exhausting. One of the privileges of a long relationship is that you can stop performing. You can be boring. You can wear terrible clothes. You can spend an entire Sunday doing absolutely nothing. You can be quiet together. You can know that one bad evening isn’t going to make the other person disappear.

But security and effort aren’t opposites. Perhaps the best relationships give us both: the comfort of knowing someone isn’t going anywhere and the occasional feeling that they’re still trying to win us over.

So think about something you used to do when you were dating that you don’t do anymore. Not because you’ve outgrown it. Not because you stopped enjoying it. Just because somewhere along the way, you stopped thinking you needed to. 

Maybe do it again. Your partner probably isn’t going anywhere. That’s a very good reason to keep giving them reasons to stay.

Spurkle gives couples little reasons to do something different with the person you already know so well.