Every generation likes to imagine their grandparents had discovered some secret formula for lifelong romance.
Nope! They didn’t!
Half of them weren’t even soulmates. They were more like teammates.
Your grandmother didn’t marry Grandpa Joe because he gave her butterflies. She married him because he owned two acres, had all his teeth and could lift a sack of maize without sounding like an old accordion.
Marriage was never a fairy tale for them. It was a survival contract. Romance was a welcome bonus, never the main business model. It was a joint venture with unlimited liability.
Love has been around longer than shoes, taxes and politicians making promises they can’t keep. What’s changed is not love itself, but the job we expect it to do.
Our grandparents often stayed together until one of them died. Today, some relationships don’t survive a power outage or a blue tick left unread. The modern dating scene has become less “finding your soulmate” and more “auditioning replacements before the current cast member has left the stage.”
Before we appoint a villain, whether it’s Instagram, toxic masculinity, toxic femininity, whatever horoscope is trending this week, let’s take an anthropological walk through history.
Spoiler alert: your grandparents were not necessarily better at relationships. They simply lived in a world where marriage served a completely different purpose.
Marriage: The Original Life Insurance Policy
Let’s be brutally honest.
A century ago, people didn’t need CrossFit. Life itself was the workout, and there was no option to cancel the membership. Our ancestors didn’t pay to lift weights. They lifted sacks of maize, buckets of water and each other out of trouble.
Water had to be fetched. Clothes had to be washed by hand. Children arrived in batches. Infant mortality was frighteningly high. Food didn’t come from an app, and if your roof leaked there wasn’t a handyman with five-star reviews arriving in twenty minutes.
The average husband was basically a forklift with chest hair.
The average wife was simultaneously chef, nurse, teacher, accountant, child psychologist, event planner and head of human resources.
You didn’t marry because someone gave you goosebumps. You married because winter, or the dry season, was coming and somebody needed to milk the goat.
If your ox died, your husband broke a leg and your youngest came down with malaria all in the same month, romance ranked somewhere between embroidery and ballroom dancing on the list of urgent priorities.
Back then, survival was the family business.
The Dating Pool Was a Tiny Village, Not the Entire Internet
Today your phone can introduce you to millions of people at the click of a screen.
Your great-grandmother’s dating app was called “walking to the market.”
Imagine a woman in 1920.
Her romantic choices were:
- Kwesi, who smelled like a goat.
- Kojo, who smelled like a goat but owned a cow.
- Or Kofi, who smelled like a goat and had all his teeth.
That was basically her dating app algorithm.
She wasn’t scrolling through six thousand shirtless gym selfies wondering if she could “do better.” She picked the healthiest, hardest-working or most resourceful man available and got on with life.
No filters. No gym selfies. No inspirational quotes copied from Pinterest.
Men weren’t exactly spoiled for choice either.
The average bachelor wasn’t demanding a woman with six degrees, a Pilates body, Michelin-star cooking skills and the patience of a saint. His wish list was usually much shorter.
“Is she healthy? Young enough to bear children? Pleasant company? Does she seem likely to throw my hunting spear into the river during an argument?”
Excellent. Wedding next Tuesday.
“For Better or Worse” Wasn’t Decorative Language
People today recite their wedding vows the way most of us click “I Agree” on a software update: quickly, enthusiastically, and without the faintest intention of reading what they’ve just committed to.
Back then, people meant every word of their wedding vows.
“For better or for worse” wasn’t romantic poetry. It was a realistic forecast.
They fully expected life to throw famine, disease, financial hardship and personal tragedy at them. The vows weren’t written for the sunny days. They were written for the storms.
The “for worse” part was practically guaranteed.
“For poorer.”
That was Tuesday.
“In sickness.”
That was Wednesday.
And the crowd favourite, “For worse.”
That was Thursday when the donkey died.
Your grandmother didn’t threaten divorce because Grandpa forgot their anniversary. He probably didn’t know what day it was because he’d spent twelve hours wrestling a plough.
Imagine telling your grandmother:
“George snores.”
She’d probably reply:
“Mine lost two cows, broke his ankle and accidentally set the shed on fire. Count your blessings.”
Marriage was expected to endure hardship because hardship was expected to arrive.
Back then, divorce wasn’t merely the end of a marriage. It was a full-scale social catastrophe, with social consequences that echoed through entire families.
It could destroy your family’s reputation.
Neighbours would gossip.
Relatives would intervene.
Religious leaders would appear uninvited.
Your aunties would hold emergency meetings with enough seriousness to negotiate a peace treaty.
A man known for abandoning his wife might struggle to earn trust in the community.
A woman known for repeated infidelity or public scandal could face harsh judgement and isolation.
Social pressure acted like relationship glue.
Not always healthy glue, but glue nonetheless.
That doesn’t mean every old marriage was happy. Some were deeply unhappy or even abusive, and modern legal protections and social acceptance of leaving harmful situations have improved many lives.
The point is simply this:
Leaving used to carry enormous costs.
Then the World Changed
Fast forward to today.
If you’re hungry, there’s a restaurant.
If you’re busy, there’s childcare.
If your shirt is dirty, there’s a laundry service.
If you’re stranded, call a taxi.
If you’re frightened, call the police.
If you need company, message someone across the planet.
Many practical functions once provided by marriage can now be outsourced.
Marriage has shifted from necessity to choice.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
It just changed the equation.
Independence Changed the Bargain
In many societies today, both men and women earn incomes, own property and pursue careers.
That means fewer people remain in relationships purely because they cannot survive alone.
Ironically, this freedom raises the standard for staying together.
If neither partner actually needs the other financially, practically or socially, then the relationship has to survive purely out of love, attraction and genuine companionship.
Or should I say…
…waking up every morning and voluntarily saying:
“Yes… you again.”
That’s a far tougher assignment than our grandparents ever signed up for.
In the past, marriage was held together by necessity.
Today, it’s held together by desire, compatibility and the hope that your spouse still finds you more interesting than their smartphone.
Now, that’s not just raising the bar, it’s moving it to another postcode.
Welcome to the Infinite Buffet
Your grandfather compared himself with the men in his village.
You compare yourself with influencers in Dubai.
Your grandmother wondered whether the blacksmith’s son might make a decent husband.
Today someone can wonder if there’s a billionaire yoga instructor with perfect teeth and six-pack abs who also enjoys pottery and emotional vulnerability.
Social media has quietly turned every relationship into a global competition.
There’s always someone richer.
Someone prettier.
Someone fitter.
Someone with better filters and suspiciously perfect holiday photos.
The brain starts thinking the grass is greener elsewhere, forgetting that half the grass on Instagram is artificial turf with excellent lighting.
Human Nature Has Always Wanted Better
Anthropologists and psychologists have long recognised that humans are opportunity-seeking creatures.
Human beings are perpetual upgraders. We chase promotions, bigger houses, newer cars, fitter bodies and the latest phone, even when last year’s model was working perfectly well.
Why would relationships be the one area magically exempt from that instinct?
The temptation to wonder whether there’s a “better deal” isn’t unique to men or women. It’s a deeply human tendency.
The only difference is that our grandparents had to cross three villages, dodge an angry father and survive a market day to meet someone outside their regular dating pool.
Today, prospective dates arrive every few seconds, neatly packaged on a six-inch screen in your pocket.
Technology didn’t invent temptation.
It simply gave it unlimited data, high-speed internet and a dating app.
Passion Is a Spark, Not a Power Station
Early attraction runs on novelty, chemistry and enough dopamine to make otherwise intelligent adults behave like escaped psychiatric ward inmates.
It’s exhilarating.
It’s addictive.
And it’s rented, not owned.
Nobody gets to live forever in the honeymoon phase.
Mother Nature gives you just enough fireworks to get you together, then quietly takes away the matches.
Attraction naturally rises and falls.
That’s biology, not betrayal.
Tragically, many couples mistake the end of infatuation for the end of love.
They throw away a perfectly repairable relationship because the butterflies have stopped performing aerial acrobatics and have settled into the sensible business of paying the emotional mortgage.
The Modern Checklist Is Exhausting
Many couples now expect one person to be:
* Your lover.
* Your therapist.
* Your best friend.
* Your business partner.
* Your parenting coach.
* Your travel buddy.
* Your financial planner.
* Your comedian.
* Your intellectual equal.
* Your emergency contact.
…and somehow still mysterious enough to keep the romance alive after fifteen years and two screaming toddlers.
It’s no wonder people feel disappointed.
We’re asking one human being to perform the work of an entire village.
If We Wrote Honest Wedding Vows Today…
“I promise to love you while algorithms keep introducing me to attractive strangers.”
“I will resist comparing our relationship to carefully edited social media highlights.”
“I accept that you will occasionally be annoying, tired, irrational and impossible, because so will I.”
“I understand that attraction may fluctuate, but commitment is a decision renewed repeatedly, not a feeling that magically renews itself.”
“And if either of us starts a sentence with, ‘We need to talk,’ we agree not to assume immediate catastrophe.”
So How Do We Build Relationships That Last?
First, stop expecting permanent fireworks.
Fireworks are expensive, noisy and over in ten minutes. A campfire, on the other hand, keeps you warm all night, cooks your dinner and doesn’t require the fire brigade. Aim for the campfire.
Second, choose character over chemistry alone.
Chemistry gets you through the first date. Character gets you through the first mortgage, the first redundancy, the first screaming toddler and the first time one of you catches a stomach bug. Kindness ages far better than cheekbones or a six-pack.
Third, stop window-shopping.
If you’re constantly wondering whether there’s a newer model out there, you’ll never appreciate the one parked in your own driveway. Comparison is the fastest way to turn gratitude into customer dissatisfaction.
Fourth, keep surprising each other.
Go somewhere new. Learn something together. Break the routine occasionally. Even Mother Nature knows that a change of scenery can wake up a sleepy brain.
Fifth, don’t panic when you argue.
Every healthy relationship has disagreements. Couples who learn how to fight fairly usually do much better than couples who smile politely while quietly building a warehouse full of resentment. Emotional debt collects interest too.
Sixth, never stop dating your spouse.
Flirt shamelessly. Laugh often. Hold hands. Be affectionate. Leave silly messages. Surprise each other now and then.
Relationships aren’t museum exhibits that stay perfect behind glass. They’re gardens. Stop watering them, and before long the weeds start paying council tax.
And here’s the biggest lesson of all.
The person you marry won’t be the same person 40 years later.
Neither will you.
Life changes people; Hair quietly resigns. Waistlines discover independence. You begin making involuntary noises every time you stand up. Suddenly, you need reading glasses to find the reading glasses already sitting on your head. And that’s just middle age saying, “Good morning.” Remember some of us get grumpy and intolerant with age
A successful marriage isn’t about finding the perfect person. It’s about learning to love each new version of the imperfect person beside you, while allowing them to do the same for you.
Your grandparents didn’t stay together because they loved more deeply. Often, they simply had fewer exits.
We have more freedom than any generation before us. The challenge is staying focused when the world keeps advertising alternatives.
Because in a world where temptation fits inside your pocket, loyalty isn’t the absence of options.
Finally, remember that love isn’t a permanent emotion.
It’s a decision you keep renewing.
Feelings wobble.
Hormones go on strike.
Stress moves in uninvited.
Attraction comes and goes like British sunshine.
The couples who make it aren’t the lucky ones who stay permanently infatuated.
They’re the ones who keep picking up the toolbox, replacing the loose planks and rebuilding the bridge every single time life decides to send a flood.
Your grandparents didn’t necessarily stay together because they loved each other more.
Often, they stayed because life didn’t offer many options.
Our generation has more freedom than any before it.
The challenge is learning to use that freedom wisely.
The strongest modern relationships are no longer built because two people have no alternative.
They endure because, despite having endless alternatives flashing across a screen every day, they wake up each morning and quietly decide:
“I’ll choose you again.”
