Simple Things I Did And You Can Do That Will Have Your Husband Falling in Love with You Again

The first winter after our youngest left for college, the house got quiet in a way I was not ready for. My husband Tom and I had spent more than thirty years raising three kids, driving to practices, and cooking for a full table. Then the table had two chairs in use and a lot of empty ones. We were polite to each other. We were kind. But somewhere in all those years we had started living like roommates who shared a mortgage.

I did not want to stay there. I also did not want some big dramatic fix, because I am not a dramatic person and neither is Tom. So that winter I tried small things. Most of them took less than a minute. Some of them felt a little silly at the start. By the time the snow melted, Tom was reaching for my hand again without thinking about it, and I was looking forward to him walking in the door.

Here is what I did, in the order I tried it, with the plain lesson I took from each. None of this is expert advice. It is just what worked in my kitchen, in my living room, and in the cab of Tom’s truck.

Say good morning before you say anything else

The first week of that quiet winter, I noticed my usual greeting to Tom was a question about whether he had paid the water bill. He grunted. I grunted back. That was the whole conversation before coffee. The next morning I made myself say good morning first, with his name, and nothing else attached. Tom looked up from the counter like I had said something unusual. He said good morning back. The water bill came up later, and it went fine.

The lesson is simple. The first words of the day set the tone for the rest of it. Start with a greeting and not a task.

Sit next to him instead of across from him

For years Tom and I sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, because the kids filled in the middle. That winter the middle was empty, and we kept sitting at opposite ends out of habit. It felt like a meeting. So I moved my plate over to the chair beside his. Tom raised an eyebrow and asked if I wanted the end piece of the pot roast. I did not. I just wanted to sit by him. We ate with our elbows nearly touching, and the meal felt different.

A small change in where you sit can change how a conversation feels. Close the distance at the table.

Ask what he thinks before you say what you think

Tom and I were deciding whether to repaint the living room. My habit was to announce my plan and wait for him to agree. That night I asked him what color he would pick. Tom thought about it for a while. He said he had always liked the gray in his mother’s house and had never mentioned it. I had no idea. We ended up with a color close to that, and he still points at the wall and smiles about it.

Your husband has opinions he has stopped sharing because he assumes you have already decided. Ask first, and mean it.

Put the phone in another room at dinner

Dinner that winter had become me scrolling and Tom reading the paper. Neither of us was rude. We were just not there. I started leaving my phone on the hall table before I sat down. Tom noticed on the second night and folded the paper. We talked about nothing much, the neighbor’s dog, the price of eggs, a show he wanted to watch. It was the longest conversation we had had in weeks, and it happened over leftover chicken.

Attention is the plainest gift you can give someone. Put the phone away and look at your husband while you eat.

Thank him for the things he does every week

Tom rakes leaves on Saturday mornings. He has done it for decades. I had stopped noticing. One Saturday I brought him a cup of coffee in the yard and said thank you for keeping the lawn nice all these years. Tom leaned on the rake and said no one had ever thanked him for that. He was not upset. He was surprised. He raked slower after that, and he came in whistling.

The routine jobs are the ones that go unseen. Say thank you for the ordinary work, out loud and by name.

Touch his shoulder when you walk past

I realized that winter that Tom and I could go a whole day without touching each other. Not out of anger, just out of distance. So I started resting my hand on his shoulder when I walked behind his chair. The first time, he reached up and covered my hand with his. He did not say anything. Neither did I. It became a habit within a week, and he started doing it back when he passed me at the sink.

Touch does not have to be a big moment. A hand on the shoulder in passing says I am here and I like you.

Laugh at the old stories again

Tom tells the same story about the time our middle child locked us out of the house during a snowstorm. I have heard it more times than I can count. That winter I had started cutting him off before the ending. One night at a friend’s house he started it again, and I let him finish. I laughed at the ending like it was new. Tom looked over at me with a face I had not seen in a while.

Your husband’s old stories are part of how he remembers your life together. Let him tell them, and laugh at the good parts.

Let him finish the sentence

I am a fast talker. Tom is not. Over the years I had started finishing his sentences to speed things up, and I did not notice until that quiet winter. One evening he was telling me about a problem at work and I jumped in with the answer. He stopped talking. I apologized and asked him to go on. It took him a full minute to get there on his own, and his answer was better than mine.

Finishing someone’s sentence tells him you are not really listening. Wait, even when the pause feels long.

Go outside and work beside him

Tom spends a lot of Saturday mornings in the yard. I usually stayed inside with my coffee. One cold morning I put on gloves and came out to bag leaves while he raked. We did not talk much. He pointed at a spot I missed and I told him his piles were crooked. It was the most time we had spent together all week, and neither of us had planned it.

Companionship does not need a planned activity. Show up where your husband already is and help with what he is already doing.

Cook the meal he likes without being asked

Tom’s favorite meal is pot roast with the end piece. He always claims the end piece. That winter I made it on a Wednesday for no reason at all. When he walked in and smelled it he stopped in the doorway and asked what the occasion was. I said there was no occasion. He sat down and ate the end piece slowly and said it was the best one yet. It was the same recipe as always.

Doing the thing he likes on an ordinary day tells him you were thinking about him. Make his favorite without a holiday attached.

Tell him something you noticed he did well

Tom fixed the back door latch that had been sticking for months. I almost did not say anything, because fixing things is what he does. Then I told him I had noticed, and that it had been bothering me, and that he had done a good job. He shrugged. But the next day he fixed the loose cabinet hinge without being asked. I said thank you for that too.

Men hear plenty about what went wrong. Point out what went right, specifically, and watch what happens.

Apologize before you decide whose fault it was

Tom and I had an argument about a forgotten appointment. I was sure it was his fault. He was sure it was mine. We sat in silence at dinner. I finally said I was sorry for snapping, and I did not add anything about his part in it. Tom put down his fork and said he was sorry too. The appointment got rescheduled. We never did figure out who forgot it.

Waiting to apologize until the blame is sorted out means waiting forever. Say sorry for your part and leave his part to him.

Keep the date night habit alive

Years ago Tom and I went out for pancakes every Friday night, before kids and bills and practices got in the way. That winter I asked him if he wanted to go to the diner on Friday. He said sure, like it was no big deal. We sat in a booth and split a plate and talked about the kids and then about other things. He paid and held the door, the way he did when we were young.

A standing date does not need to be fancy. Pick a night and a place and keep showing up.

Stop correcting the small stuff

Tom loads the dishwasher wrong. I have told him so for more than thirty years. That winter I decided to stop. He loaded it his way, bowls on the bottom, and I left it. The dishes came out clean. He noticed I had not said anything and asked if I was feeling all right. I said the dishes were fine. He has loaded it every night since.

Most of the small corrections are not worth the small sting they leave. Let the dishwasher go.

Ask about his day and wait for the real answer

When I asked Tom how his day was, he said fine. Every day. That winter I asked a different question. I asked what the hardest part of his day had been. He was quiet for a bit. Then he told me about a coworker who was retiring and how strange it felt to be the oldest person in the room. We talked for an hour. I had not known any of it.

A general question gets a general answer. Ask about something specific and give him room to answer.

Go to bed at the same time

Tom goes to bed early. I had drifted into staying up with the television. That winter I started going up when he did. We lay in the dark and talked about the kids, the grandkids, the furnace noise. Some nights we fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. Some nights we did not fall asleep right away. Either way, we were in the same room at the same time, which had become rare.

The end of the day is when people say the things they mean. Be there for it.

Say what you want out loud instead of hinting

I wanted Tom to take me to the Christmas lights downtown. I hinted for a week. He did not catch it. Finally I said, plainly, that I wanted to go see the lights on Saturday and I wanted him to drive. He said okay. We went. On the drive home he said he wished I had just told him sooner, because he would have said yes the first time.

Hints feel safer but they do not work. Say the thing you want in a plain sentence.

Pick a show and watch it together on purpose

Tom watches his shows in the den. I watch mine in the living room. That winter I asked him to pick something we could both stand, and we settled on a detective show neither of us had seen. We watched an episode every Tuesday. He guessed the ending wrong every time, and I guessed it right about half the time, and we argued about it in a friendly way.

Sharing a screen is not the same as sharing a room. Choose something together and watch it side by side.

Sit in the garage while he works

Tom spends winter evenings in the garage with the space heater and the radio. I brought a folding chair out and sat with a book. I did not help. I did not talk much. He worked on the lawn mower and hummed along with the radio. After a while he started explaining what he was doing, and I asked questions. We stayed out there until the heater ran low.

You do not have to share the hobby to share the space. Bring a chair and keep him company.

Leave a note where he will find it

I put a note in Tom’s lunch bag one morning. It said I was glad he was coming home that night. Nothing more. He did not mention it when he got home. A week later I found a note in my coat pocket that said the same thing back, in his handwriting. We never talked about it. The notes kept going back and forth for the rest of the winter.

A written sentence can say what feels awkward to say out loud. Leave it somewhere he will find it alone.

Learn his new interest even if it bores you

Tom had gotten interested in bird feeders. I thought it was a strange thing to care about. That winter I asked him to show me the difference between the birds at the feeder. He got the field guide out and pointed out a nuthatch and a junco. I did not become a birder. But I started noticing the feeder, and I told him when a new one showed up. He lit up every time.

Your husband’s interests are a way into his mind. Ask to be taught, and pay attention to the answer.

Dress up a little on an ordinary Tuesday

That winter my daily uniform was a sweatshirt and the same pair of jeans. Tom did not complain. But on a plain Tuesday I put on a sweater he had once said he liked and some earrings. He noticed when he came in. He asked if we were going somewhere. I said no, I just felt like it. He went upstairs and came down in a clean shirt. We ate leftovers looking nicer than usual.

Making an effort on a day with no occasion tells him he is the occasion. Wear the sweater.

Talk about the kids less and about each other more

Tom and I could talk about our kids and our grandkids for hours. It was safe ground. That winter I noticed we almost never talked about ourselves. So at dinner I asked him what he wanted the next ten years to look like. He said he did not know. Then he said he wanted to take a long drive somewhere with no plan. I said I would go. We spent the evening on that instead of on the kids.

The kids will always be a good subject. Make room for the subject of the two people left at the table.

Hold his hand in the grocery store

Tom and I had stopped holding hands in public somewhere in the busy years. At the grocery store that winter, walking back to the truck, I took his hand. He looked down at it and then at me. He held on. A woman in the parking lot smiled at us. Tom said he felt like a teenager. He held my hand the whole way home, which made shifting the truck hard, and he did it anyway.

Holding hands in public is a small thing that says you are still a pair. Reach for his hand where people can see.

Tell him plainly that you still choose him

Near the end of that winter, on a plain Sunday with snow still on the ground, I told Tom I would marry him again. I did not dress it up. I just said it while we were doing the dishes. He stopped with a plate in his hands. He said he would marry me again too. Then he said he had been wondering if I still felt that way, and he had not wanted to ask.

Your husband may be wondering the same thing you are. Say it in plain words, with no occasion needed.

By the time the snow melted, Tom and I were not different people. We were the same two people who had raised three kids and run a house and gotten tired. But we were paying attention to each other again, and that turned out to be most of what was missing. None of these things cost money. Most of them took less time than making a cup of coffee.

If you are in a quiet house with a husband who feels more like a roommate, I would start with the smallest thing on this list and see what happens. What is the small thing you could try tonight?