Last night, while watching a rom-com, I realized that couples often sit side-by-side and snuggle on a couch.
Even commercials depict couples that way.
And it dawned on me in the twenty-seven years I was with my husband (seven dating, twenty married) we never, ever shared the couch. Instead, he always chose to sit in his comfy lounge chair.
I never had the comforting opportunity to rest my head on his chest. Hold hands while we watched TV or have him stretched out with his head in my lap.
In the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal. However, perhaps in hindsight it's telling of our relationship. A red-flag that went unnoticed. A small aspect of the larger situation that ultimately resulted in our separation.
Of course, we had intimacy—we had three sons' together—but as I look back, I'm aware intimate moments outside the bedroom were missing; a glace across a crowded room only we understood. The squeeze of a hand that says "it'll be okay." Scheduled time just for us.
Did I ask for any of this? Foolishly, no. Did I offer it? Sadly, no.
We got busy and lazy, and because of life circumstances, survival took precedence over romance.
Eventually, our communication took the form of sarcasm and swipes at each other labeled with "just kidding."
Our conversations reduced to bullet points, like the synopsis of a meeting.
Maybe if from the start we'd shared the couch, and he didn't have his chair, we wouldn't have fallen apart if!
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