The Day I Realized We’d Become Roommates
Man, it hit me hard last Tuesday. My wife was folding laundry while I scrolled memes on my phone. The silence wasn’t comfortable anymore—it was heavy. We’d slipped into “co-parenting robots” mode. Right then I decided: today’s the damn day we start dating again. No fancy plans, just real stuff.
Operation Morning Coffee Ambush
Woke up before the kids (miracle #1). Tip-toed downstairs and brewed her favorite vanilla hazelnut crap coffee—the one I usually hate making. Poured it into her chipped “Queen Bee” mug instead of whatever clean mug was handy. Walked back upstairs and gently shook her shoulder. “Brought you caffeine, sleepyhead.” Her confused half-smile? Worth the 6 AM alarm.
- Action Step: Used the special mug she loves
- Why it worked: Showed I remembered her little things
The Sneaky Text Strike
After school drop-off chaos, I fired up my phone. Didn’t send some basic “love you” text. Nah. I described exactly what I missed about our early days: “Remember how we got caught in that thunderstorm on our 3rd date? You laughed until you snorted. Still the best sound.” Hit send before I could overthink it. Her reply? “Still the best date.” Point for me.
Ditching the Usual Tuesday Night
Told her I’d handle dinner cleanup solo. Her suspicious look said it all. While she hid in the bathroom (her “me-time fortress”), I transformed the living room. Shoved toys behind the couch. Lit that weird pumpkin spice candle she bought. Put on that corny 90s R&B playlist we slow-danced to at prom. Key move: Positioned myself casually leaning on the doorway when she came out.
“What’s all this?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“Dance floor’s open. If you’re not too busy?”
Did we have a full-blown dance party? No. Kids screamed for water twice. But we slow-dragged for a whole song. Her head on my chest, that cheap candle smelling like fall. Felt like oxygen returning.
Why This Actually Stuck
It wasn’t grand gestures. It was micro-moments:
- Choosing her comfort over mine (that coffee)
- Digging up specific happy memories (the rain date text)
- Creating space for us without over-planning (the forced dance)
The real win? Tonight she texted ME first: “Pizza place still open? Ditch the kids at Mom’s?” Looks like cheap Italian and bad jokes are back on the menu. Feels less like relearning her… more like remembering who we are. And man, we’re actually kinda fun.
