When Did We Stop Doing That?
Most relationships do not change all at once. More often, something small disappears. Maybe you used to bring your partner coffee in the morning. They used to text you in the middle of the day just to say hello. You kissed when one of you came home. You planned dates, flirted more, touched each other when you passed in the kitchen, or picked up their favorite snack at the store because you happened to see it and thought of them.
Then life got busy. Work became more demanding. Kids needed rides. Bills had to be paid. Someone was exhausted. Someone wasn't sleeping well. There was laundry, dinner, appointments, aging parents, home repairs, and a dozen other things competing for attention. Nobody sat down and decided, "I'm going to stop caring about this person." You just stopped doing some of the things that once made that caring visible.
The Small Things Were Never Really Small
Imagine that every morning your partner makes sure your favorite coffee is in the house. You never asked them to do it. They simply know you like it, and whenever you're getting low, another bag appears in the cupboard. It would be easy to say that it's just coffee, and technically that is true. But the coffee is carrying a message. It says that I notice you. I know what you like. I thought about you when you weren't here. Something that makes your day a little better matters to me.
That is why seemingly insignificant things can become surprisingly important in relationships. Their practical value may be small, but their relational meaning can be much larger. It might be initiating affection, making someone's lunch, filling their car with gas, sending a funny text because you know it will make them laugh, asking how the meeting went and actually remembering there was a meeting, sitting beside them on the couch instead of across the room, or taking care of something they usually handle because you know they've had a difficult week.
None of these things by themselves proves that someone loves you. There are also plenty of loving relationships in which partners express care very differently. But over time, these ordinary behaviors can create an important experience within a relationship: I am known here. I am considered. This person pays attention to me.
We Usually Don't Mean to Stop
Early in a relationship, we tend to devote an enormous amount of attention to the other person. We are curious about them. We notice things. We look for opportunities to spend time together. We remember what they like and dislike. We think about what might make them happy. We rearrange schedules to see them and find reasons to stay in contact when we are apart. For a while, this person occupies a remarkable amount of our attention.
Eventually, the relationship becomes part of ordinary life. In many ways, that is exactly what we wanted. We wanted this person to become familiar. We wanted to build a life together. We wanted the excitement and uncertainty of finding someone to eventually become the security of having someone.
But familiarity can have an unintended consequence. Things we once did intentionally can become things we assume will simply take care of themselves. Our attention moves toward work, children, finances, responsibilities, and whatever problem happens to be demanding it that day. The relationship begins getting whatever energy remains after everything else has been handled, and sometimes there isn't much left.
This is one reason I think taking a partner for granted is often more accidental than intentional. The phrase can sound like an accusation, as though someone consciously decided that their partner no longer deserved attention or effort. Sometimes that may be true. More often, we simply become so accustomed to someone's presence that we stop actively noticing them.
We assume there will be another evening together, another weekend, another anniversary, another opportunity to have the conversation or plan the trip. There will be another chance to reach for their hand, ask about their day, tell them they look good, or do the little thing we know they appreciate. None of those things feels particularly urgent, so they are easy to put off.
Slowly, a relationship can shift from something two people actively create to something they simply have.
When Did We Stop Doing That?
When couples feel disconnected, one of the first questions they often ask is some version of, "What's wrong with us?" There may be times when that is an important question. But another question can sometimes be more useful: What did we used to do that we don't do anymore?
Think about a period when your relationship felt particularly connected. What was happening then? Maybe you went for walks after dinner. Maybe you talked in bed instead of looking at your phones. Maybe you left each other notes, went out for breakfast on Saturdays, asked more questions, laughed more, or made a bigger deal out of seeing each other at the end of the day. Perhaps there were small rituals that neither of you recognized as rituals at the time.
The point is not to recreate the beginning of the relationship. You aren't the same people you were then, and your lives may be completely different. Some of what worked at 25 may not fit at 45 or 65. The more interesting question is what those behaviors communicated. Somewhere underneath the coffee, the texts, the dates, the walks, and the small favors was often a fairly simple message: You matter to me.
That message still matters even when the ways we communicate it need to change.
This Isn't About Keeping Score
There is a trap in all of this. If I start making your coffee because I expect you to do something equally thoughtful for me, the gesture becomes a transaction. If every act of kindness creates an obligation that has to be repaid, we have probably moved away from what made these behaviors meaningful in the first place.
Relationships certainly need reciprocity. One person cannot indefinitely carry all of the emotional and practical work while the other simply receives it. But reciprocity does not mean that every exchange has to be equal. There will probably be periods in any long relationship when one person gives more because the other is struggling, and other periods when that balance reverses.
The larger question is whether both people are still oriented toward each other. Are we still paying attention? Are we still curious? Are we still looking for opportunities, however small, to make the other person's life a little easier, warmer, funnier, calmer, or more enjoyable?
Making Love Visible
We often talk about love as something we feel, but much of what allows another person to experience our love is what we do. Love becomes visible through attention, curiosity, affection, generosity, patience, humor, kindness, and hundreds of ordinary behaviors that communicate that we still see the person standing in front of us.
So it might be worth thinking back to a time when your relationship felt particularly connected and asking yourself a simple question: What is one small thing I regularly did for my partner then that I rarely do now?
There is no need to plan a vacation, schedule an elaborate date, or promise to transform your relationship. Maybe you make the coffee. Send the text. Reach for their hand. Ask the question and stay long enough to hear the answer. Pick up the thing they like at the grocery store simply because you remembered.
Then notice what happens.
Sometimes the small things were never really small.
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