Rekindle Your Marriage
It happens quite suddenly. You spot her across a crowded room, walking as if she’s gliding, the kind of woman who looked so gentle, she probably didn’t leave footprints. You just try to soak her in, trying to hear her voice over the pounding of your heart in you ears. She looks your way, your eyes connecting. Was that a nod and a smile? Boy, she gives a great nod. You feel flushed, and try to settle yourself down before approaching. Eventually, you try a cute opening line, and she smiles at how hokey it sounds. But she smiles. Man, I can’ believe she’s talking to me. And that smile!
You actually get up the nerve to ask her number, and she gives it to you. A couple of days later (so as not to appear too eager), you ask her out, and she accepts. You actually don’t need to, since you spend hours on the phone. She likes a lot of the same things you do, surprisingly laughs at your jokes (an even bigger surprise). She even has a funny little smile. Everything about her is great.
Fast forward four years. You’re living together, and just stormed out of the room after another argument. The damn girl asks too many questions, talks too much, and knows everything. There’s no room for you. And she uses that grating laugh to mock you, because your jokes aren’t funny anymore. Nowadays, her little chuckle sounds like a combination of sounds animals make when they’re in great pain. You’d like to put her out of her misery.
“What happened? Who are you and what did you do with the woman I fell in love with?” you ask silently.
Fact of the matter is, the romance has died. Face it.
I’ve heard that, when we “fall in love”, we release chemicals that give us a high. Who needs drugs? This feeling is regenerated whenever we’re in the presence of the person we’re attracted to. And, get this, it usually lasts all of eighteen months, or thereabouts. So what happens next, when the string quarter takes a break, and you take off your rose-colored glasses and see the unshaven face, truth, the rust in your knight’s armor? Have you ever thought about what it smells inside that armor, anyway?
Ah, now the work begins.
The pitfall of most relationships is when they this stage. In some marriage groups, they call this cycle romance-disillusionment-joy. The first three years are usually the easiest, because nothing bothers you about your loved one, or you choose to ignore it. Eventually, five, ten, twenty years down the road, it becomes grating, unbearable.
Sit down and talk. Tell each other what bothers you, what’s negotiable, and what isn’t. Actually you should do this at the start of every relationship. Set the ground rules; there’s no harm in it. What are your expectations? I’ve seen couples split up over an open tube of toothpaste, a toilet seat left up or down, and snoring. You won’t find little things endearing forever. And men and women speak different languages, even though they use the same words.
You need to exercise romance. Eventually, you stop doing the things that made you romantic, or they don’t have the same impact. People change. They grow. Someone who used to love chocolate may develop diabetes, if you get what I mean. We have to adapt. The reason the romantic feeling wears of is so that we can start using our brains to make the other person happy.
Lay down rules for fighting. No cussing, no yelling, no violence, no throwing things. Don’t involve other people, particularly the other person’s family. And most important of all, be able to say the words “I love you” while fighting. And not, I might add, through gritted teeth. Talk about everything, even whether or not you’re ready to talk. Ladies, give the guys some space when they ask for it.
Romance is a muscle. It has to be exercised, or else, it grows flaccid, and nothing in a relationship works if it’s flaccid.
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