When did we become so stuck in the 60s and 70s?
We are in 2026.
Sometimes I wonder why expressing love to the person we married can become so difficult.
“Hi, good evening. Hey, how are you?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Long time no see you.”
We can be warm, friendly, expressive, and genuinely interested when we meet strangers, acquaintances, coworkers, and people we have not seen in a while.
But sometimes, with the person we married and the people closest to us, something changes.
Why?
Why do we sometimes take the people we love the most for granted?
A husband comes home late.
He usually comes home at six, but tonight it is nine.
Instead of saying,
“Honey, I missed you. What happened?”
we say,
“Where have you been?”
“You forgot the children’s football game.”
“You didn’t call.”
And suddenly, what could have been a conversation becomes an argument.
Maybe something happened.
Maybe there was a delay.
Maybe he had a difficult day.
Maybe he simply lost track of time.
Whatever the reason, wouldn’t it be better to ask before assuming?
“Baby, I missed you. What happened?”
That doesn’t mean we ignore problems.
It doesn’t mean we make excuses for poor behavior.
It doesn’t mean we overlook dishonesty, neglect, or anything that genuinely needs to be addressed.
It simply means that sometimes we can approach the person we love with tenderness before frustration.
Sometimes the person coming home late doesn’t need a lecture the moment they walk through the door.
Sometimes they need to know they were missed.
And sometimes you need to know that you were missed too.
Marriage is not a call to cage someone.
It is not a command to tie another person so tightly to you that they can no longer breathe.
Your spouse was a person before they met you.
They had siblings.
They had friends.
They had interests.
They had dreams.
They had responsibilities.
They had a life.
Marriage brings two lives together, but it does not erase the individual lives that existed before the marriage.
If he wants to spend some time with his siblings or his friends, perhaps that is okay.
And you can spend time with your girlfriends too.
You can have your own interests.
You can laugh with your own friends.
You can have something that belongs to you outside of your marriage.
Love does not have to mean possession.
Sometimes giving each other room to breathe actually gives the marriage more room to grow.
And perhaps many of the things that cause unnecessary tension could be softened if we remembered that.
Marriage is friendship too.
It is understanding.
It is asking questions.
It is learning each other’s weaknesses.
It is making room for each other’s humanity.
It is being able to say,
“You may not be at your best today, honey, but I’m here.”
It is being able to say,
“I may not understand everything you are going through, but I’m willing to listen.”
It is a touch on the hand.
A pat on the back.
Helping with the laundry.
Making a meal.
Sitting beside each other after a long day.
A hug that says more than words.
These things may look small, but they are expressions of love.
Love is not only what happens in the bedroom.
What happens when one of you becomes sick?
What happens when age changes your body?
What happens when one of you is no longer able to perform the way you once did?
Would the friendship still be there?
Would the tenderness still be there?
Would we still remember the vows?
Marriage is hard.
We should not pretend otherwise.
There will be days when one person needs more understanding than the other.
There will be days when one of you is tired, frustrated, distracted, jealous, overwhelmed, or simply not at your best.
That is when friendship matters.
And I am not suggesting that anyone remain in a loveless marriage or in a relationship where one person refuses to communicate, sacrifice, grow, or make the relationship better.
Love requires participation from both people.
But perhaps we could try a little more.
Perhaps we could be a little more expressive.
Perhaps we could stop being so afraid to say what we actually feel.
Instead of saying,
“Where have you been?”
sometimes we could say,
“Honey, I missed you.”
Instead of immediately assuming the worst, perhaps we could ask,
“What happened?”
Instead of waiting for a special occasion to show love, perhaps we could simply show it in the ordinary moments.
Because life is short.
A little accident can change everything.
And sometimes the greatest regret is not what we said.
It is what we never said.
The hug we never gave.
The “I missed you” we swallowed.
The “I’m glad you’re home” we thought but never expressed.
The “I love you” we assumed they already knew.
We assume there will always be another day.
Another evening.
Another conversation.
Another opportunity.
But none of us is promised tomorrow.
So perhaps we should love a little more intentionally.
Not by controlling each other.
Not by making excuses for each other.
Not by ignoring problems.
But by remembering that the person beside us is human.
A person who needs friendship.
A person who needs grace.
A person who needs affection.
A person who needs to know that they are loved beyond what they can provide or accomplish.
“I love you” is beautiful.
But sometimes “I love you” is easy to say.
Living it is different.
Love is in the everyday things.
It is in patience.
It is in sacrifice.
It is in friendship.
It is in understanding.
It is in making room.
It is in showing up.
It is in being able to say,
“I got you, even in your weakness.”
Not because we are making excuses.
Not because we are ignoring problems.
But because we have chosen to love a real person, not a perfect one.
Perhaps we don’t need less love.
Perhaps we need to become a little better at showing it.
And maybe, every now and then, instead of asking,
“Where have you been?”
we can simply say,
“Honey, I missed you.”
Author’s Notes
Sometimes I think about how easily we can be warm, friendly, and expressive with strangers and acquaintances, yet become strangely different with the person we married and the people closest to us.
Why is that?
Why do we sometimes take the people we love the most for granted?
Life is short. We don’t know what tomorrow holds. A little accident can change everything, and suddenly we may find ourselves wishing we had said the words we thought could wait.
So say them.
Show them.
Make the call.
Give the hug.
Sit down together.
Laugh together.
Make room for each other.
Love is not only found in the big moments. Sometimes it is hiding in the smallest things we do every day.
By Joan A.Roberts
