Blogs

In a couple of weeks, my husband and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary.

We've discussed possible plans. I suggested a weekend spent organizing our house. While I believe that one will be vetoed as simply too un-anniversary-like, I'm cool with us not doing it big or giving each other expensive gifts.

I have told him as much, and I believe he would like it notarized.

I don't blame him. In our dating years, I would have told him this and then expected him to pass my test of getting me a gift anyway. In many different ways, I held him up to a standard of romantic gestures and drama that was unrealistic.

My romantic expectations were shaped by movies and soap operas. As a teen, I had many a daydream where I cast myself in "Sixteen Candles" and enjoyed the romantic gestures (Porsche! cake! panties!) of Jake Ryan. He had to compete with Lloyd Dobler and his boom box. On the small screen, I watched soap operas and pined after a character who was ultimately played by two different actors and killed off at least that many times.

With long-distance dating, my then-boyfriend and I had the opportunity for reunions after separations and weekends where we could essentially shut out the typical day to day. We had our fair share of romantic gestures.

Then we got married.

All of a sudden, we were living not only in the same state but in the same space, and a very small one at that. He realized that I was far messier than I had made myself out to be, and I realized that he wasn't kidding when he said he was messy. We squabbled and stewed. As our bathroom was arguably the largest and most private space in our apartment, we both found retreat in taking baths.

Ten years later, we have a good marriage. I attribute some of that to us each having our own bathrooms. Beyond that, though, I have learned to appreciate the many small ways that my husband has shown me his love. To name a few:

He puts my toothbrush head in the sanitizer for me.

He doesn't say anything when I stand at the fridge squirting whipped cream into my mouth (despite my resolution to cut out dairy and sweets).

He makes me bacon.

He set up an extra-large monitor so that I would stop squinting and leaning forward when working on the computer.

I am annoyed by some of the small things he does (e.g., leaving his socks on the floor or burrowed at the foot of the bed), but I'll soldier on picking up his socks because the small things he does to show me his love outweigh them. I know that there are small things I do that annoy him, too (e.g., insisting on using a steak knife for all cutting and chopping in the kitchen).

While my teenage heart belonged to Jake and Lloyd, my more mature and fuller heart belongs to my husband and our life built on a million small things.

- Christina Liparini

Christina Liparini is a therapist, educator and mother. For 15 years she has treated children and adults coping with anxiety, depression, sexual assault, other traumas, grief, loss, eating issues, career concerns and more. She also has used her counseling background to support the needs of mothers and mothers-to-be.