Early love is often a whirlwind of desire, optimism, and playful connection. In part 1 of this series, I shared what you need to know to understand that while this phase is part magic, it is also part chemistry.

Before we build up a tolerance to each other’s presence, being near a new lover releases a flood of aphrodisiacal hormones. But when the spontaneous arousal and desire fade, it doesn’t mean your love is doomed—it means it is time to choose ongoing sexual connection rather than waiting to be swept away by the hormonally driven passion you enjoyed early on.

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Although we can’t go back in time and relive the glory days of new love, we can make choices that recreate the key features of that era—because while it’s true that you were gifted with bursts of feel-good hormones early on, it’s not true that that’s all it took to create a robust sex life.

In fact, early in relationships, we make all kinds of choices that set the stage for sexual connection; it just comes so naturally to do so in the beginning that we don’t even notice we are actively making those choices. Over time, we stop choosing courtship behaviors, and then we wonder why the flame went out.

So what would it look like to continue to make courtship-style choices in honor of long-term sexual satisfaction? What are the key behaviors we can choose in order to tend to long-term love as effectively as we tend to new love? Here are three important factors to consider:

1. Preparation and anticipation.

The first thing to know is that the cultural narrative that sensual connection was “spontaneous” in the early days is a myth. While it’s true that you likely had easier access to desire thanks to the neurochemical gifts I described in Part 1, it’s not true that this means sex just happened spontaneously.

In fact, early in our relationships, we focus a lot of attention on setting the stage on which the sensual dance can play out. We plan a date for several days away; we spend those days thinking about what we might wear, where we might go, and what kind of mood we want to set; we daydream about what might happen in our new love’s arms.

On the big day, we pull out our favorite skivvies that we purposefully didn’t wear all week, take a “tend-to-it-all” shower, and listen to music that gets us in the groove. We tidy the apartment and even ask any roommates to make plans to be out.

And when we finally meet up with our love interest for the date, we make one more key choice: we flirt. We choose to communicate in ways, with our words and our body language and our eye contact, that indicate that we are interested in sensual connection.

This is all the opposite of spontaneity; it’s preparation. What this preparation does is create a container in which we can meet our partner in a state of sensual readiness. Within that space we have created, sexual connection can happen “spontaneously,” the same way improv can happen once the actors have taken the prepared stage in a state of readiness.

Over time, we cease to prepare. We stop making dates, making time, and making the choice to wake up our sensual self in anticipation of erotic connection. Without the container, the “spontaneous” sexual connection doesn’t happen.

The only mystery here is why that continuously surprises us! Do actors spontaneously burst into improv if they haven’t set the stage? Maybe this is why we love movies where everyone erupts into song and dance in the high school cafeteria; it feeds the fantasy that we can come alive like that without any preparation. But that’s the myth.

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To keep sex alive for the long haul, honor the importance of preparation. Create the container, so that you can “spontaneously” connect within it. This might look like more date nights, or even a regular “sex date” that you get to daydream about for the days leading up to it, creating the tension of erotic anticipation. Choose to sensualize your bedroom with lighting you love, fabrics you love, and music you love, so you can connect with the partner you love in the space you create explicitly for that purpose.

And choose to flirt. Don’t expect yourself to want to jump into your partner’s arms for passionate kisses on the heels of a conversation about the finances, your work deadline, or the toddlers and teenagers who are holding you hostage. Signal to your partner, and to your own sensual self, that you are inviting connection; just like you did automatically in the beginning, use your words, your body language, and your eye contact to create a charged dynamic.

2. Seek novelty.

Another key element of the fiery beginnings is novelty. Novelty wakes up our senses, boosts dopamine, and calls us to mindful attention, all of which make it a powerful aphrodisiac.

Novelty is easy in the beginning because everything is new! But over time, we have to choose to break out of ruts and find new ways to spend time together.

These changes can be contextual and accessible; any change creates novelty. Find a new restaurant, take a dance class, invite a new couple out on a double date. Spend the weekend someplace new, meet for lunch instead of dinner, or better yet, meet at home for a clandestine midday no-holds-barred adventure.

In the beginning of a relationship, even the sex play is novel as you learn what your partner likes and what you like with your new partner. At some point, sexual routines tend to take over; we find what is reliable, efficient, and safely in each other’s comfort zones, and we settle in.

Familiarity does breed comfort—but it doesn’t breed long-term heat. Find ways to step out of the familiar and comfortable together. Take risks, try new things, and risk feeling awkward. Risk not liking something. Risk having your partner not like something!

Sound unappealing? Remember that in the beginning, when sensual energy was high, all of your sex play with your new partner was a risk. That’s not a coincidence; heat comes with risk. Trying something new and learning it’s not your thing, or their thing, is not a failure—it’s an expansion. The more you expand, the more new ground you find to explore.

3. Differentiation.

This point deserves its own whole article, so stay tuned to future pieces in this series! But the highlight for our purposes right now is to remember this: When you first met your long-term love, you were a whole separate being, and so were they.

You each had your own dreams and visions, your own good days and bad days, your own preferences and reactions to things. You had separate friends, separate daily routines, and separate expectations of your lives. You had lived a whole lifetime up until that moment being complete without that partner.

Part of what drew you together is what you saw in the other as a separate person, over there across the room, within the walls of their own skin. And you also fell in love with the parts of you that the other person brought forward. You were enriched versions of yourselves, and you got to experience great joy and intimacy in bringing those two beings together.

What you weren’t yet, in the beginning, was blended. Although some early posturing and wooing took place, the bottom line is that in the beginning, the task was to see if you were a fit; you weren’t yet doing whatever you thought was necessary to maintain still waters. You didn’t have to change to meet their expectations, shrink to stay in their comfort zone, or give up parts of yourself that you thought couldn’t be accepted.

Those patterns, known as enmeshment, build over time. When we first meet a new partner, we get to experience the potential in the relationship that exists when we are both whole; it’s like we have stepped off the plane in a beautiful new vacation spot and we are taking in the glory of the sunshine, the palm trees, the future adventures, the possibility of true relaxation.

Over time, though, our baggage catches up. Our old stories resurface, like the belief that conflict threatens closeness so we better keep the peace; the fear that we will be abandoned if we show our shadows, so we better stay pleasing and light; or the narrative that nobody can be deeply trusted so we better put up our protective walls.

Once we start adapting around these stories, we lose our wholeness and enter a state of subtle repression and oppression that blocks our sensual connection. Sensuality and sexuality are about freedom and flow; once we become enmeshed, our erotic energy begins to fade.

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Maintaining a state of differentiation involves concrete steps like nourishing your own interests, activities, and friendships, and spending time separate from your partner. Let yourselves live interesting lives that fill you up, so you can bring your stories, curiosities, and enthusiasms back to your partner. These are precious gifts that fuel long-term chemistry.

But differentiation also includes the more subtle, invisible dynamics. Watch for the ways you might be stifling your own thoughts or feelings in the name of protecting your partner or the relationship. Notice any energetic masking, withdrawal, or shrinking that you do. Be on the lookout for feelings of resentment or contempt. These are all red flags that indicate you are enmeshing with your partner; your edges have blurred, and you are blocking your own flow in the name of protecting the relationship.

Your sensual chemistry will be part of what gets stuck behind these blocks, and the intimate connection will suffer. Risk showing up as you really are, challenging and uncomfortable feelings and all. It is this brave, authentic, and complete version of you that has access to your sensual heat, so meet your partner as your full and separate self—just like you did in the beginning.