August 6, 2012
For act 295, I read an article from Focus on the Family called “Keeping Romance Alive.”
At one point in the article, the author quoted Bill Maier, who was trying to identify some possible reasons why a certain husband wasn’t romancing his wife anymore. One of the possibilities that he identified accurately captures what was going on with me before 365 Acts of Love:
[It] may be that he is feeling fine and thinks your marriage is going great. In other words, he’s pretty clueless and hasn’t noticed anything wrong with the relationship. He loves you and feels warm feelings toward you, but simply doesn’t express them.
I’m so glad that you were able to bring this issue in our marriage to my attention and that I’ve since worked hard to express my feelings for you in ways that you appreciate.
April 4, 2012
At one point, I said my acts of love would consist only in accomplished acts, not promises to commit acts. I made that decision because of my failure to fulfill the clean-the-living-room-for-a-week act and because you haven’t cashed in those coupons for household chores. After some consideration, though, I decided to give the coupon thing another shot.
During our first or second year of marriage, we bought a book of “love coupons,” thinking they would be fun to use. You left the book with me and said that they were mine to give to you at my discretion. I put them away, fully intending to use them, but never did.
A few days ago, we were spring cleaning when I found that book. I thought it’d be fun to give you one of them as a sort of reminder of our newlywed days. Here it is:
We don’t watch a lot of TV, but the idea behind the coupon is that I want you to have an evening in which my attention is focused on you and nothing else. I hope this works . . .
January 28, 2012
I finally successfully executed the sunset-at-the-beach act. This time, there were no thugs being tackled on our doorstep and no best friend to distract me from you. We did take along our kids, but that wasn’t a problem: they played in the sand while we talked and watched the sunset. We didn’t take a picture, though everything was beautiful and still. Later, you mentioned to me how great it was that I thought of taking you guys there and how meaningful the experience.
November 29, 2011
For my 61st act of love, I wanted to dance with you in our living room to a song from our wedding: UB40’s “(I Can’t Help) Falling in Love with You.” I was actually nervous and embarrassed about asking you to do this, because the whole thing seemed overly sentimental to me. You kind of like things that way, though.
After setting up the song, I walked over to where you were sitting, put my hand on your shoulder, and just stood there. “Do you need something?” you asked. “Me? Uh . . . how are you doing?” I responded. “Good, thanks.” I continued standing there with my hand on your shoulder. “Hey . . . ” I said. “Yes?” “Do you want to dance with me to one of our wedding songs?” You hesitated and looked confused, but said okay. You seemed a little embarrassed as well.
I started the song. We approached each other, both of us smiling nervously. I took your hand and drew you close. As I put my arms around you, you broke into laughter. “What?!” I said. “Sorry! Let’s try again,” you said. This time you contained yourself. We started dancing and it was so very awkward (which is not atypical–neither of us know how to dance). We tried to take it seriously for a few seconds until you said, “What is this? The Wonder Years at prom?” At that, we both burst out laughing. For nearly the entire song, we tried to reel in our laughter, but couldn’t. We switched from one awkward dance move to another, laughing so hard at times that we couldn’t breathe.
Finally, our laughter died down. You snuggled up close to me and put your head on my shoulder. I started stroking your hair as we danced and the music played “Take my hand/ Take my whole life too/ For I can’t help falling in love with you.” Then, your shoulders started shaking. “Is she crying?” I thought. They started shaking a little more violently. No, you weren’t crying. You weren’t so overcome by the moment that you couldn’t contain your emotions. You were trying to cover up your laughter! “You’re laughing!” I said. With that, we laughed uncontrollably until the song ended. “That was fun! We haven’t laughed like that in a long time,” you said. I agree. Although this act didn’t end up being as romantic as I intended, it was totally worthwhile.
November 21, 2011
I decided that this post’s too personal for the blog, honey. If you want to see it, ask me.
October 20, 2011
I kept my word and did something romantic for you yesterday. When I came home from work, I told you to just hang out while I prepared dinner. As it turned out, you almost had it finished. So I simply took over while you went on Facebook. I cleaned the dining area (which took some effort–our kids used it for their play area that day), set up the table for a candle-lit dinner, and put on some nice music. We ate roast, which you prepared wonderfully, and had a very romantic time . . . with our precious little ones dropping roast on the carpet, refusing to eat, and messing with the candle! Would you have it any other way?
October 19, 2011
Wow! My loving acts for you get more and more romantic–last night I began organizing my book collection for you. Okay, that’s not romantic. But I promise that many romantic acts are coming! I know how much you’ll appreciate this act once it’s done. I have books stacked on my desk, under my desk, on top of the bookshelf, beside the bookshelf, under the bed, and of course, on the bookshelf. Many of these books I’ll never read. You’ve begged me for days (okay, months) to do something about them. Now, I am. I’m sorting through my books, trying to be realistic about which ones I’ll read and which ones I need to trash. I promise I won’t keep any more books than will fit on my bookshelf (and perhaps under the bed). You’ve graciously endured my bibliophile tendencies too long and it’s time for me to change. May I bless you with this act and romance you with the next.