If it is plausible to say that there is not just one right person for us, and if it is equally true that roughly every seven years all the cells in our body completely renew themselves, changing our being, then perhaps the choice to spend our existence with just one person is not the best one to make. But what really is the problem? Is it sharing all the stages of life with the same person, perhaps leading to any sort of deadlock or boredom – be it intellectual, affective, or sexual – or is the trouble actually that the one who made us fall in love mutates over time, drifting apart from us and our change?