...cycles?

She lay wide awake in her bed, eyes searching the ceiling. Her significant others' breathing was deep and steady. She let her mind wander. What had happened? Was there one moment that maybe if she thought back hard enough she could pinpoint when exactly things, she, had started to change?
It all started like a fairytale romance, hell, like any new relationship, really. They were in love and not afraid to show the whole world, friends, colleagues, their respective families - everybody should know that this one was it. They went out on dates, for meals, stayed in to watch TV, made plans for the future. And most of all they talked, talked, talked and made love, love, love.
17 months down the line it's less talking and certainly less love-making. But, they still went out for meals and movies, didn't they? And they were still making plans for the future, talking about getting married and buying a dog, weren't they? So why was she crying all the time, feeling all left alone? True, he was the one bringing home the bacon while she was left to her own devices at home. But she didn't mind it that much, she even got to like the ironing. Plus he was supporting her plans of further study, always asking her what she wanted, sometimes in an exasperated tone, but still, and going out on social calls although he hates that kind of thing, but knows how important those outings are for her. He really truly is a good man, she thought. He loves me and I love him.
So, this anxiety must just be part of the natural cycle of a relationship. The cycle she's been through a few times. The cycle everybody knows. The happy-in-love-phase followed by the settling-down-phase followed by the seeing-your-partner-realistically-phase followed by the do-I-really-want-this-phase? followed by the here-I-am-single-again-ready-for-the-next-one-phase. The little nagging feeling she had with all previous relationships and the flaws she found in her partners had so far always gotten the better of her and sooner or later she'd find herself single again. In the words of Quim Monzó, looking to create the kind of closeness she just gave up with someone new, someone exciting. Circle of life, right? It's a biological fact, after all, that human couples are something like genetically programmed to stay together for only about four years anyway. One to love and build a nest, and another two or three until the baby is out of the diapers, weaned and ready to take care of itself. Make that seven years if the couple have two kids. And, since they didn't have any kids, they've had their year of loving and nest-building, so it's no wonder thoughts are moving on, right?
But I don't want to move on, she thought. I want to follow that other road, the one that I've heard so much about. The one where two people stay together because they love eachother, because they have plans together, because they don't want to go through life alone, searching for that next possibly better-suited partner to build a life with, chasing the what-ifs. The road they call "growing up". Which has multiple lanes called "taking responsibility" and "making compromises". Not to be confused with the roundabout of expecting the perfect life in the perfect house with the perfect job and the perfect partner, cos that doesn't exist, honey. It's simply not realistic to expect things to always go well, days always to be great from start to finish, and partners always behaving like you would want them to. They do that for awhile, but then, invariably, tides turn. And that's usually a good thing.
She went back to a little comforting phrase she had come up with years ago: time is merciless. She'd do well to remember that the happy occasions won't last forever, but neither will the sad ones. Time will go on, whatever happens. So, she decided to live in the present and make the most of the happy moments and not worry about the sad ones. I'll break that cycle, she thought; time to exit the roundabout and go look for that road.
And I'll be happy.