You know, life throws you curveballs, and sometimes those curveballs come wrapped up in a pretty, thoughtful package that just confuses the heck out of you. I had one of those periods, specifically around mid-2024. Things with my significant other, let’s call them M, just felt… off. Not bad, not angry, just like we were speaking different languages or something, especially when it came to everyday stuff and, well, love.
I remember it so clearly, leading up to August. We were trying to plan a short trip, nothing major, just a weekend getaway to the coast. And man, that planning process, it became a whole thing. I’m usually pretty chill about travel. Pick a spot, book a decent place, figure the rest out as we go. But M? Oh no, that was not M’s style at all. Every single hotel option needed to be dissected. Reviews were microscopic. The route, the timing of the stops, what we’d eat at each place, even what clothes we should pack for every possible weather scenario. It was like a military operation, not a relaxing break.
I found myself getting really antsy. I mean, who cares if the hotel has a slightly older carpet if the view is stunning? But M would get stuck on that carpet, or a single negative review about the coffee machine. It wasn’t just the trip, though. It was little things constantly. Like, I’d leave my keys on the counter, and M would move them to the key bowl. I’d be in the middle of reading a magazine, put it down for a second, and it would be neatly stacked away. It felt like my life was being subtly… adjusted. And I started to feel a bit scrutinized, or like nothing I did was quite right. I knew M wasn’t trying to be mean, but my patience was really wearing thin. I felt my own spontaneity, my own easy-going nature, just getting chipped away.
One evening, sometime in late July, after another exhaustive discussion about the pros and cons of two practically identical restaurants for dinner – where M pointed out every potential flaw, from the parking situation to the shade of the tablecloths – I just hit a wall. I didn’t snap at M, mind you. I just retreated into my own head and thought, “What am I missing here? This can’t be how relationships are supposed to feel. Why does everything feel like a test, or a problem to be solved?”
That night, I started doing something different. Instead of reacting or getting frustrated, I just started observing. Really observing. When M would point out a tiny detail, I’d try to understand why it mattered so much to them. When they were meticulously organizing something, I’d watch the care they put into it. It wasn’t about finding fault in them; it was about finding the logic in their world. And that’s when things slowly, slowly started to click for me. It wasn’t about being critical of me. It was about M’s own internal drive for things to be right, to be secure, to be… perfect, for us.
My “practice” over the next few weeks, especially through August 2024, wasn’t about changing M. It was about changing my approach. It was about trying to understand their love language, which was less about grand gestures and more about subtle acts of care and prevention. It was a complete shift in perspective, and it made all the difference.
My Best Tips from That Time
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Listen for the worry, not just the critique.
When M would pick apart a detail, say, about that hotel carpet, I learned to hear past the surface. It wasn’t about the carpet itself; it was about M wanting us to have the absolute best, or avoiding potential discomfort, or a fear of things going wrong. They weren’t judging my choice; they were trying to prevent a bad experience. Once I started acknowledging that underlying worry, like, “Yeah, it would really suck if the place wasn’t clean,” it totally changed the dynamic. It made them feel heard, and less like I was brushing off their concerns.
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Give them their space to organize and plan.
I realized trying to force spontaneity on M was just causing stress. Their way of showing love and care was often by ensuring everything was thought out, buttoned up, and secure. So, instead of getting annoyed when they’d spend hours comparing flight times, I’d either offer to help in a structured way, or just let them do their thing. I learned to appreciate that their detailed planning usually resulted in a much smoother, more enjoyable experience for both of us in the end. The key was to step back and let them express that organizational energy without feeling like it was encroaching on my freedom. I’d say, “Hey, you do such a good job with all the details, do you want to take the lead on this part?” And the relief on their face was priceless.
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Appreciate the quiet efforts and acts of service.
M wasn’t always one for big, flowery words or romantic surprises. But they’d always make sure my favorite coffee was brewed just right in the morning, or that my car had gas, or that annoying squeaky door hinge was finally fixed. These were their acts of love. I had to train myself to actually see and acknowledge these everyday efforts. A simple “Hey, thanks for always making sure I have coffee, it really helps my morning,” went a long way. It wasn’t just fixing things; it was about making my life easier, which was their profound way of showing they cared. I had overlooked so much of that before.
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Be straightforward and clear, no ambiguity.
I learned that M really, really appreciated direct communication. No hints, no passive-aggressive stuff. If something bothered me, or if I needed something, just saying it plainly, calmly, and without drama worked wonders. They preferred knowing the truth, even if it was a bit uncomfortable, rather than having to guess or navigate unspoken issues. I’d say, “Hey, when you move my keys without asking, it makes it hard for me to find them later. Could you check with me first?” And it was always met with understanding, not defensiveness. That was a big lesson for me, someone who usually tries to smooth things over.
That August, and the months following, really changed how I understood M, and by extension, how I understood love in general. It wasn’t about finding the perfect partner; it was about learning to understand, appreciate, and adapt to the wonderful, complex person I had. That trip, by the way? It ended up being fantastic, largely because I stopped fighting the process and just enjoyed M’s meticulous care, which ultimately made everything run smoothly. It made all the difference.
