We dream of it:
The safe harbor.
The lifelong partner.
The steady hand to hold through storms and sunsets.
Marriage is supposed to give us stability, belonging, and love that lasts.
But here’s the paradox:
The person you marry will not stay the same.
And neither will you.
In Love Online: Emotions on the Internet, philosopher Aaron Ben-Ze’ev writes about how the evolving nature of emotions, identity, and connection creates tension within long-term commitments.
Marriage promises permanence in a world—and within selves—that are constantly changing.
So how do we make sense of a promise to love forever… when forever won’t look anything like today?
1. The Promise of Stability
Marriage offers:
- A shared home base
- Social and emotional security
- A legal and symbolic “we”
- A space to grow roots
This stability is precious.
It helps love deepen.
It gives intimacy time to unfold.
It gives identity a witness.
As Ben-Ze’ev notes, the desire for long-term emotional stability is not outdated—it’s profoundly human.
But the danger?
Confusing stability with stasis.
2. The Inevitability of Change
No matter how in love you are, change will come:
- You’ll outgrow past versions of yourself
- Your goals will evolve
- Life will bring pressure, grief, expansion
- Your partner will shift in ways you didn’t expect—or want
This is where the paradox begins:
Marriage asks us to stay loyal to someone who will become a different person—just as we will.
3. The Tension Between Consistency and Freedom
Modern marriage carries double expectations:
- Be my anchor.
- Let me evolve.
- Never leave.
- Never hold me back.
We want:
- Passion and security
- Adventure and safety
- Total acceptance and personal growth
These are not wrong—but they do create internal conflict.
Ben-Ze’ev frames this as the emotional complexity of commitment:
We want a “forever” that keeps making room for who we are becoming—not just who we were.
4. Why Some Marriages Break, and Others Adapt
Many marriages break not from betrayal—but from rigidity.
The inability to adapt.
The refusal to talk about uncomfortable change.
The fear of letting go of who we used to be.
Others adapt because they:
- Recommit—again and again
- Accept that people are not promises—they are processes
- Make space for individual growth inside the bond, not outside it
- Grieve the endings within the marriage—and keep building something new
Ben-Ze’ev reminds us: flexible commitment is not weaker—it’s wiser.
5. Redefining “Forever”
What if “forever” doesn’t mean staying the same?
What if it means:
- Showing up with curiosity
- Loving the changes, even when they scare us
- Holding space for multiple versions of each other
- Asking: Who are we now? instead of Why aren’t we who we used to be?
The marriage paradox softens when we understand this:
You’re not promising to love one version of a person—you’re promising to keep loving, through the versions.
Final Reflection
Marriage is not a frozen photograph.
It’s a moving river.
A garden that needs replanting, pruning, and new sunlight.
So don’t fear the paradox.
Let it humble you.
Let it teach you that love is not proven in the vows you made at the start—
But in the tenderness with which you keep choosing, adapting, and showing up
for someone who is still becoming—
just like you.