Love Is a Moving Target

I used to have a type.
Then I outgrew that version.
I still fancy the type, but I’m not moved anymore.
What changed? Adulthood, maybe. Or reality. Access. Mindset. Maturity. Fear. I’m not sure.

I think, at some point, love stops being about chemistry and starts being about compatibility. Not the kind you can calculate, but the kind you can live with. The energy that lasts after the butterflies clock out.

When I was younger, I loved the idea of being chosen. Now, I’m more interested in being understood. I used to think excitement was proof of connection, now I think peace is.

Maybe that’s what they mean when they say “you’ll know when it’s right.”
It’s not that the person feels perfect; it’s that you no longer feel the need to perform.

But it’s strange, isn’t it? How the same traits that once drew us in can later make us pause. Confidence becomes arrogance. Mystery becomes avoidance. Ambition becomes distance.

It’s not that love changed - we did.

Sometimes I wonder if we ever stop looking for the version of love that made us feel alive the first time. We spend years chasing that spark, forgetting that we’re not the same match anymore.
The flame’s still possible, it just burns differently now.

Maybe love is a moving target because we keep moving, too.
And the best relationships aren’t the ones that stay still; they’re the ones that adapt — to new seasons, new dreams, new versions of ourselves.

I still believe in romance. I still believe in slow mornings, shared laughter, and inside jokes that last.
But now I know: love isn’t something you find and keep. It’s something you keep finding, over and over, in different ways, with the same or different people, if you’re open enough to evolve.

So if the love that used to thrill you doesn’t quite reach you anymore, maybe that’s not a loss.

Maybe it’s growth.
Maybe your heart is just learning a new language.

So tell me, do you have a type? Has it evolved over the years?