Love me less but longer

love me less but longer

I thought I loved my wife from the moment we started dating. I’m a ridiculous, emotional, over-sentimental sap. I guess that’s why I told my wife I loved her on our second date. I had tried really hard up to that point to hold it back, honestly. I wanted to tell her on the first date, but I knew that would probably be weird. She kind of gave me this half-shy, half-amused smile. Then she nodded and looked off into the sky. I wasn’t heartbroken by the response. I think part of me recognized that she was much smarter and more modest than me.

But as time has gone on, I also realized that she knew something that I didn’t. After two months of dating, we were engaged. Three months after that, we were married. And that whole time I was swooning. This fire was burning in me, a fire that burned just like that second date: I was in love. But then we got married, and everything changed. Marriage, quicker than I was ready for, did this thing: it started sucking away that emotion. I tried so hard to keep that fire going, to keep that emotion alight, but it got harder and harder. I mean, how you can feel that burning love when you’re sitting at the table discussing how to use the last twenty dollars in your bank account? How can you feel it when you get into an argument?

How can you feel it when you think it makes perfect sense to put your socks on the floor after you’re done with them, and she has this crazy idea that they need to go in the laundry basket? There was no way I could keep that dating fire burning as practicality invaded our lives. And at first, it drove me nuts. That excitement was how I knew I cared for her! But suddenly, life was this grind. Even when I was with her. Especially when I was with her.

And even worse, it seemed that the harder I tried to be sentimental and lovey-dovey, the less it was reciprocated. But it wasn’t that she wasn’t giving me love, it just seemed to come at different times. Like, when I offered to do the dishes. Or make dinner after she had a hard day. Or, once we had a daughter, when I shared the responsibility of watching over her. I don’t think I noticed this consciously for a while. But I think it had an effect on me. Because as our marriage progressed, I found myself offering to help out around the house more and more. And after each time, there would be this look she would give me. One that was soft and so beautiful.

It took me longer than I care to admit to understand what was happening. Through giving, through doing things for my wife, the emotion that I had been so desperately seeking naturally came about. It wasn’t something I could force, just something that would come about as a result of my giving. In other words, it was in the practicality that I found the love I was looking for. And what was even more interesting was that once I realized this on a conscious level, and started trying to find more opportunities to give, the more we both, almost intuitively, became lovey-dovey. And now, as I’m a bit older and a bit more experienced with this relationship, I’ve finally come to realize something. Something I haven’t wanted to admit for a long time, but is undeniable. I didn’t love my wife on that second date. I didn’t love her when we got engaged.

love me less but longer

love me less but longer