Mars vs. Venus: Who’s feelin’ the love?
Happy weekend, everyone! I was without my Valentine for the first time in fifteen years yesterday, but frankly, I can take or leave the holiday. The noisy restaurants, the guilt-motivated flower buying, the obligatory boxes of chocolates that only have three flavors I actually like…meh.
But of course when my husband offers to take me out, I never refuse! Ha!
Whatever your feelings about Valentine’s day, however, let’s have some fun and dish about what really defines relationship happiness. Based on a super scientific poll that I conducted on Facebook recently (*snort*), I think I have the elusive answer, people!
The poll was very simple. I asked my Facebook buddies to fill in the blank: “I feel love when my partner….” Then I asked them to tell me how long they’d been in that relationship so I could see if there was any correlation between any of the answers. Here’s a sample of the responses I received.
I feel loved when my partner…
- brings me coffee in the morning (20 yrs, 2 mo, 2 secs) <<<SECONDS, they gave me SECONDS! See, I said it was scientific! LOL
- cleans the kitchen/house while I work (43 yrs 7 mos 5 sec)
- actually notices when something is wrong and does something unexpected for me that I was dreading doing myself! (22 yrs, 7 months)
- leaves me notes in unexpected places (1 year, 2 months, 33 sec)
- takes over minor housework details so I can keep on writing (10 years, 8 months and 28 days)
- closes the door and kisses me against the wall (19 yrs, 360 days) <<<Whoa, this guy ought to teach seminars, right?!
- our eyes meet and I know we are sharing a memory, an inside joke, or an emotional connection with an intimacy I’ll never have with another person. (34 years, 4 months, and 9 days) <<< Cue the sighs 🙂
- offers advice to help me solve a problem where he has no stake in the outcome. (19 years)
- treats my 5 year old daughter like his own. (1 year, 9 months and 1 week)
- makes me laugh, calls me by my pet name, and does things like get my car detailed—just because. (16 years, 10 months, 2 days, 40 seconds)
- has my coffee ready to go in the morning, or when he sneaks up behind me and kisses my neck (together for a little over 3 years, married for 2 but he was my middle school sweetheart so 25 plus year
Interesting, huh? No matter how long the couple had been together, not once did anyone mention flowers or trips or jewelry or shopping of any sort. Let that sink in for a moment.
What does all this tell us?
It’s so simple, really. What makes us most happy in our closest relationships are the little things. The mundane, everyday stuff of life that we do for each other that quietly—and often silently—demonstrates our commitment to one another. Things that make us get through our days easier. The little touch points that make us feel connected, and like we have someone in our corner no matter what the world chooses to dole out.
The key is to initiate a conversation with your love about what those little things are because, not surprisingly, they’re different for each of us. When I asked my guy what I do that makes him feel loved, he mentioned putting technology away and spending undistracted time together. Spending time together in nature is also important to him.
Such simple requests…and good reminders. I mean, I knew all that about him, but it’s been quite a while since I’ve consciously thought about it, and then put that knowledge to productive, happy use. Its simplicity is very humbling—and encouraging—if you ask me.
Next, I asked my children the same question because I wanted to know what touched them and made them feel closer to me. It was a great conversation as we cuddled together in bed. Their answers were very basic and also boiled down to simply spending time together. They never once mentioned getting new toys or electronics.
So what do you think? Have you asked the important people in your life what specifically makes them feel loved? What makes you feel loved by your partner, and have shared that lately?
Misty’s love affair with words started in middle school with moody stories set in exotic locales she knew nothing about. In college, her boy-angst erupted in disturbing reams of poetry. After grad school, the writing went into hibernation until she found her own happily-ever-after with an ultra linear man who is the long-suffering counter-balance to her zig-zagging ways. Now, she spends her days writing sexy, adrenaline-fueled stories, enjoying family and friends, and praying her children don’t come home with math homework.
HSGlasses is delighted to have Misty on the blog today. 🙂 A great writer with fabulous stories to tell. You can find her online….
And for those interested in a little peak at her latest book, Come Hell or High Desire….
Her fingernails suddenly raked at her skull. “Lord! I almost forgot. We have to go back to Ann’s. She has a diary!”
He swerved into an empty parking lot and swiveled to face her, blood pounding in his ears. “What are you talking about?”
“Ann keeps a diary. We have to find it.”
“You’re just telling me this now? You should have goddamn said something right away!”
“Don’t you dare curse at me like that, you seismic jackass!”
He had to get out. He flung the truck door open and strode onto the cracked asphalt. Her door slammed shut moments later, and within seconds she was wagging a finger in his face. “And don’t you walk away from me, either!”
“Then don’t be such a damn shrew.”
Color flooded over her cheekbones seconds before she punched him in the gut. Hard. An ancient fire lit up his nerve circuits and adrenaline had him widening his stance. His heart gunned.
His groin tightened.
And she was still shrill.
“I’m not a shrew! How am I supposed to act in a situation like this? You think I’m enjoying this? I hate it! But unfortunately I have a conscience which would haunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t follow this through until we have some answers. You came to me and wanted to rule out the church first. Then with everything that happened, I forgot about the diary until right now. That clear enough for you, you—”
Clear enough, honey.
He vised her head between his palms and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to, but the moment her mouth opened to his, he was lost. Not breaking contact with her mouth, he wrapped one arm around her, his hand splaying across her ass, locking her hips against him. Her hands were in his hair, her hips grinding, driving him crazy. They feasted on each other’s mouth, tongues dueling, daring, seeking. He felt her fingers between their bodies, slipping underneath the waistband of his jeans, pulling at the hem of his shirt. Her fingernail scraped his abs and he groaned. She leaned away from his mouth, her eyes dead sexy. Liquid brown. He was gonna—
A car horn blew, jerking him back to life. Back to the parking lot. He looked over to see a man in a black minivan at a stoplight giving them the thumbs up. He honked twice more, waved, and
Sloane burst into a fit of laughter that quickly dissolved into tears. drove on.
And that clinched it. He’d woken up this morning in some creepy-assed Twilight Zone.