Fifteen years of marriage has given me this.
Did you call the insurance company?
Yes.
Can you grab bread?
Okay.
Did you see the email from the school?
👍
That's a love letter. Trust me, there were butterflies.
And before you judge me, I know how it looks. It's a thumbs up emoji. The most controversial little yellow hand in modern communication.
But, for people like us, it can mean: It's handled. I got you. I love you.
That's romance.
Not the kind in Shakespeare, obviously. Nobody is writing a verse about someone who remembered to call the insurance company. That's because the great love stories usually stop before the really good stuff starts.
Romeo and Juliet were teenagers. Their biggest logistical problem was avoiding their parents. We, on the other hand, have a grocery list to tackle.
This is what happens when romance and adulthood collide.
You have kids. You have pets. You have a house full of things that need fixing, replacing, feeding, scheduling, paying for, and occasionally yelling about.
And right there in the middle of all of it...is love.
The Part Nobody Writes About
It's easy to be romantic when all you have to do is declare your love in some orchard. Looking at you, Romeo.
After more than a decade, romance looks a little different. It gets a lot less dramatic. It's knowing who is going to handle what. Being able to say, “the toilet is doing that weird thing again,” and knowing that’s enough.
You know each other’s version of “I’ll take care of it.”
Early in marriage, you’re saying things like, “I would do anything for you.”
Fifteen years later:
“Okay, cool, but will you sit in this godforsaken school pickup line for 25 minutes?”
Of course he will. Because he’s your guy.
The windshield washer fluid gets filled before you have to ask. The dog gets to the vet because somebody remembered the appointment. When something in the house makes a strange noise, one of you says, “can you come look at this?”
Nobody announces, “Look! I have lovingly maintained the infrastructure of our relationship!”
You just do the thing.
And, after enough time together, you develop a whole language that makes perfect sense to you and occasionally leaves the other person completely lost.
Our love languages have gone digital. When you’re dating, it might be sending each other 46 Instagram reels and wondering what exactly that means. Fifteen years into marriage, it’s a thumbs-up emoji confirming someone handled the school email.
Progress?
“I don’t know what’s going on in there,” my husband has said to me more times than I can count, pointing at my head.
Fair enough. Sometimes I’ve already had the entire conversation in my head before I say the first sentence. He just missed the first part.
Of course, we can all get it wrong, too.
You forget something, or you buy the wrong thing. You swear you mentioned the appointment, even though you absolutely did not mention the appointment. Oops.
There are still some eye rolls and moments when you look at each other and think, Seriously?
Then somebody remembers to pick up the dog food. Somebody apologizes. And you move on.
Sometimes that’s the whole conversation:
“Can you take care of the headlight?”
Already did.
“Do we need anything from the store?”
Yes, laundry detergent.
👍
Thank you. I’ll see you when you get home.
That’s a lot of meaning for one tiny yellow hand. Nobody else needs to understand it. You do.
Romeo needed a whole monologue. We need three texts and a thumbs-up.
And Shakespeare probably would have had no idea what to do with any of it.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Fine. I’ll take the dog out.
“My only love sprung from my only hate!”
You bought the wrong kind of trash bags again.
“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”
Where are you? I need you to come look at this.
Turns Out, This Is the Good Stuff
That's the part of love nobody writes about. Not because the big stuff disappears. It doesn't.
There are still kisses in the kitchen. There are still dates and trips. You still reach for each other and have private jokes that don’t make sense to anyone else. There are moments when you look at the person you've shared all of this with and think, Yep. I got really lucky here.
But there is something pretty extraordinary about getting to the point where you don't need to say much at all. You know, and they know.
That's the part the love stories leave out. We get the whole thing, and I'll take ours.
Insurance.
Bread.
The school email.
Gas station M&M’s.
A forehead kiss goodnight.
Random flowers on a Tuesday.
And yes, even this…👍
If Romeo had gotten to the point where Juliet could text him, “can you stop for milk?” and know he'd handle it, maybe he would have skipped the drama altogether.
Actually, no.
He had a sword fight to get into.
We have actual shit to do.
Romeo and Juliet could never.