It always begins the same way:
I find my perfect match, give pursuit, and find that my positive attentions are — more often than not — eventually returned. I am giddy…fulfilled…content, and months pass with minimal complaint. I’m more than willing to overlook the small things. I even start to consider: Could this possibly be…The One?
But the honeymoon period inevitably ends. Small annoyances are now BIG DEALS. That, and I’m sort of bored. I crave variety…excitement…a good time with little commitment. I start to feel resentful.
I’m scared, though. My original match still makes me feel safe and secure and, well, I still need that. The reasons I had for loving my match haven’t changed, after all. But my dissatisfaction eventually becomes too big to ignore, and…
