When Tom and Laura met, something clicked instantly. Their first date stretched for hours as they talked over coffee, walked by the river, and found themselves laughing like old friends. For weeks afterward, they called and texted each other constantly, stayed up late, and told friends they’d “never felt anything like this before.”
Tom was captivated by Laura’s warmth and spontaneity. She brought color and energy to his careful, measured life. Laura adored Tom’s steadiness and kindness; he made her feel safe in a way no one else had. They imagined a future full of joy and ease. Even their differences seemed endearing. When Tom meticulously planned their dates, Laura teased him affectionately: “I love how you make sure everything goes just right.” He’d grin and say, “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”
But after the wedding and the arrival of two children, the shine began to dull. Disappointment crept in quietly, like fog rolling across a once-clear view. Tom’s planning now felt controlling to Laura. She began to begrudge his insistence on schedules and lists, while he grew anxious about her spontaneity—missed deadlines, last-minute guests, forgotten bills.
Their arguments became circular: “You never listen to me.” “I am listening—you just don’t like what I say.”
Both felt unseen, misunderstood, and lonely. They began keeping score, each quietly convinced the other was the problem.
By their fifth anniversary, they had settled into a sense of obligation. They still said “I love you,” but mostly out of habit. Their conversations revolved around the kids, the mortgage, and managing life. Date nights felt forced. They avoided real topics, not wanting to risk another fight. From the outside, they looked like a solid couple, but privately each wondered, Is this all there is?
One night when Laura, exhausted from years of quiet resentment, whispered through tears, “Tom, I don’t feel close to you anymore. I miss us.”
For the first time, instead of defending himself, Tom just listened. Something in her voice broke through his walls. He felt her pain—and his own. Laura’s words were not an accusation; they were an expression of her grief.
Similar moments over the next few weeks cracked open the door to a different kind of relating. They began to talk differently. They started exploring their relationship, not to fix the other, but to understand themselves. Tom learned how his need for control was really fear of failure. Laura began to see how her impulsiveness sometimes left him feeling unsafe. They practiced small gestures of care: notes on the fridge, slow walks after dinner, genuine curiosity about each other’s day.
Over time, they began to laugh again—first awkwardly, then more freely. They started reaching out to each other in the kitchen, on the couch, in quiet moments before bed. They were learning that love wasn’t supposed to be effortless—it was something they built, day by day.
Years later, when their children were grown and gone, Tom and Laura sat on the porch one summer evening, the light softening across the yard. Laura leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “You know, I think we’ve finally found it—the real thing.”
Tom smiled. “Yeah,” he said, “we went looking for the fairytale, and ended up with something better.”
The Five Stages
The journey of Laura and Tom illustrates that relationships change over time. Some of these changes are externally driven by life events and transitions—the birth of a child, a new job, a move to a new location, death of family members, retirement, etc. And your success as a couple has much to do with how well you manage these external disruptions.
But in addition to these external challenges, marriage is a journey that passes through several predictable stages. Although each couple’s experience is unique and not all couples will go through every stage to the same degree, the stages are common, perhaps universal. Let me present them to you as a roadmap for understanding your relationship. The roadmap will help you know where you are, where you want to go, and the next steps to get there.
Here’s a diagram.
As you can see, there are five stages—from the high of enchantment to the low of disillusionment and on to obligation, friendship, and mature love.
Stage One: Enchantment
This is the first and most exciting stage of the relationship. We can’t get one another off our minds. We want to spend as much time together as possible. We feel excitement, well-being and even euphoria. The euphoria gives us a sense of closeness and intimacy. Someone loves us unconditionally which is about the greatest feeling in the world. In enchantment, we put our best foot forward by presenting ourselves in a favorable light. We are attentive and giving towards our partners, doing things that we know will endear them. We minimize our conflicts and differences. We see our partner in an idealized way and experience a profound sense of well-being and aliveness just being together.
Stage Two: Disillusionment
Unfortunately, but inevitably, enchantment runs its course. The light of day casts a new view on things. Our own hang-ups did not disappear. We begin to see one another more realistically. Your idiosyncrasies glare at me and our differences seem daunting. She thinks his parents are more important to him than she is. He thinks she spends too much money. She had no idea he spent so much time watching sports or playing video games. Differences are exaggerated and we engage in power struggles to try and get one another to be different. We see ourselves as “right” and our partner as “wrong.” We conclude that it’s our partner’s fault that we aren’t happy. If only they would change or be different.
Stage Three: Obligation
We settle in for the long haul. It hasn’t worked to try and change each other so we learn to get along by smoothing over differences and not rocking the boat. Our relationship is not particularly happy but at least it is stable. We don’t place great demands on the relationship but busy ourselves with children, friends, work, church, etc. There is still a sense “I could be happy if my spouse would change or do such and such.” However, it is not worth the fight. We stay together due to social and economic constraints more than devotion. We have a functional relationship that lacks excitement and passion.
Stage Four: Friendship
We begin to let go of unrealistic expectations and relinquish the notion that our partner makes us happy and take responsibility for ourselves and the fulfillment of our own needs and desires. We recognize the importance of working through our own fears, hurts, and defenses rather than blaming them on our partners. We respect one another’s uniqueness and seek to support each other in meeting our individual needs. We become more vulnerable and direct in our communication. We foster friendship and positive affection. We turn towards one another realizing that we can experience more pleasure together than apart as we engage in more time and activities together.
Stage Five: Mature Love
This is the highest stage of marital development. We have matured through experience and surrendered a lot of the struggles of life. We see life with a new perspective of what is and is not important. Not only do we accept but we even cherish our differences. Our marriage is a central part of our lives. We share interests and activities and enjoy our common life. We have deepened our empathy and developed communication skills to get concerns on the table and work them through to win-win outcomes. Our focus turns from getting (what’s in it for me) to giving (how can I be of service and support you). There is an unconditional love and oneness within our relationship. We belong together. We rediscover enchantment and joy.
A Lesson for All of Us
The story of Tom and Laura—and the five stages it reveals—remind us that love is not a static feeling but a living process. Every couple will pass through seasons of enchantment and disappointment, distance and rediscovery. What matters most is not avoiding the difficult stages, but moving through them with awareness, humility and courage, using them as invitations to grow in self-awareness and compassion. When partners choose to take responsibility for their part, to listen with open hearts, and to stay engaged even when it’s hard, they move toward a deeper, more enduring bond. In the end, mature love is not something we fall into—it’s something we build, one honest conversation, one act of care, and one moment of grace at a time.
