I used to be afraid we’d run out of things to talk about. A luxury, now that my fears are trained on bigger things. But I remember those momentary sparks of worry from our first couple of years together, when conversation died down at the end of a long dinner. That moment when you break eye contact and take a moment to yourselves, eyes settling on other things like the warm light of a restaurant votive, melting into itself. Is this it, I would think. Has EVERY possible topic on which we share interest and knowledge run its course??
Those moments seem almost pleasant to me now, butterflies. A cliche, maybe, but the best way to describe that sense of volatility that defines early relationships, and our perception of romance. Necessary, like a teaspoon of coffee in chocolate mousse. The bitterness makes the chocolate taste more like itself, intensifies it.
I’m not writing this out of some aching nostalgia for the “early days.” After almost a decade together, that’s been the biggest surprise of all. Everything you fear comes true, but in a nice way. Your lives begin to overlap, increasingly tangled like the limbs of two lanky people in a small bed. By necessity, you remove layers of mystery. You set up shared accounts. Then one day, you sit down to eat together and there are no words, no attempted words even, and no apologies for any of it, no fretting over what it could possibly mean. It’s not strained or scary, it just is.
We’ve had more of those dinners lately. After all, what is there to talk about when you’re home 24/7, working and exercising and raising a child together and existing in the same space, day after day. We are no longer overlapping limbs in a small bed. Adam is my left arm. And together, we’re juggling too many balls that cannot drop. Responsibility passes between us fluidly. “You got her?” “I got her.” A call and response we pass back and fourth a hundred times a day as we facilitate the (mostly) pleasant cadence of our 16 month old’s daily schedule.
When we got married and again when we became parents, I was advised to keep the romance “alive.” As if it were a houseplant, a fern with delicate lace petals that requires just the right amount of hydration. Spend quality time together! Have fun together! Without the baby! I used to worry about the logistics of this, especially when we went into quarantine last year. What is romance, in this kind of scenario, when we are short on time and places to go and long on exhaustion and elastic waistbands?
The dream date I’m currently picturing is a few hours with a giant glass of wine and the book I’ve been trying to finish for two weeks. Actually, scratch the wine, maybe a giant margarita? Two margaritas?? And in that case, scratch the book—I’ll just lie on my face, drinking an oversized margarita from a long straw. Perrrfect. Adam and I could do this side by side! I don’t think this is what anyone had in mind when they said “quality time.” But it’s what checks the boxes right now.
Right now, we need a different definition for romance, one that isn’t beholden to butterflies and the constant flow of interesting conversation. I’m wondering if it’s unkosher to say that, for me, romance right now is laying in bed on our phones with the quiet understanding that neither of us feels like interacting with even one more human after a long day. Romance is moving a load of laundry to the dryer that you didn’t start, because the other person forgot about it. It’s an extra-long hug in the middle of a busy workday because one of us read that you get more endorphins if it lasts 20 seconds or longer. It’s a foot massage (though when is it not a foot massage, tbh). It’s saying, with certainty, that the other person is NOT a mess when they are absolutely a hot mess most of the time (hi, I’m the other person in this one). And it’s getting through this chaos together, side-by-side and finding comfort, a kind of quiet understanding, in not talking.
By this new definition, romance is in FULL BLOOM over here. I could list a hundred more things. What is romance for you, right now? Maybe it looks a little different these days, too? Maybe it doesn’t even apply to a relationship with an SO, but to how you treat yourself or your friends or family?
