Ever Feel Disconnected From Your Partner?

It started on a random Tuesday night.

We were both lying in bed—phones in hand, lights off, backs turned slightly away from each other. Not angry. Not disconnected in some dramatic way. Just… off. Distant. Exhausted. Going through the motions of ending another busy day. I remember glancing over and thinking, “We’re right next to each other… but we feel miles apart.”

We had spent the whole day doing life together—working, parenting, coordinating dinner, cleaning up, folding laundry. But somehow, we hadn’t really connected. We hadn’t looked each other in the eye with intention. We hadn’t stopped long enough to ask anything that mattered. I could’ve rolled over and said goodnight. That would’ve been easy. But instead, something in me felt bold—or maybe just desperate enough—to try something different.So I turned and asked quietly,

“How did you feel most loved by me today?”

There was a pause. And then I added,

“And how did you try to love me today?”

⸻

We didn’t expect a life-changing moment. Honestly, we didn’t even know what to say at first. But we answered. Our responses were simple, maybe even a little clumsy, but it opened something.

There was “presence” in the moment that wasn’t there before.

Zach’s answer gave me a glimpse into what mattered to him that day—things I never would’ve known unless I had asked. It helped me realize that love doesn’t always look like the big, Instagram-worthy gestures.

Sometimes it’s as quiet as:

“You made my coffee exactly how I like it.”

“You rubbed my back when I was overwhelmed.”

“You gave me space without making me feel guilty.”

Sometimes the answers are deeper:

“When you encouraged me before my meeting.”

“When you defended me in front of your parents.”

“When you said, ‘thank you,’ and actually meant it.”

⸻

We kept doing it—night after night.

Some evenings the conversation was quick and playful. Other times, it led to unexpected vulnerability. But slowly, this became a rhythm in our relationship.

And with every answer, we started to see each other more clearly.

I realized something powerful: We often assume love is being communicated—when really, it’s just being performed.

We’re doing things we hope the other person notices, but we rarely stop to name it or ask if it actually landed. This practice—these two little questions—flipped that. Instead of guessing, we started learning. Instead of waiting to be appreciated, we began to recognize love in the small, ordinary moments. Instead of hoping connection would just happen, we started building it on purpose.

⸻

Here’s what this habit taught me:

    •    Love needs language. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together—people still need to hear and say what matters.

    •    Love thrives on attention. The very act of noticing how someone loved you can be just as meaningful as the act itself.

    •    Love doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. Some nights we forget. Some nights we’re tired. But when we show up with curiosity and presence, that’s enough.

⸻

So here’s my challenge to you: Try it tonight.

Put your phone down.

Turn toward each other.

And ask:

“How did you feel most loved today?”

“How did you try to love me today?”

Then really listen.

Don’t interrupt. Don’t defend. Don’t try to make it a big deal. Just listen, receive, and say thank you. You might be surprised by what you hear. You might uncover little things that matter more than you thought. And you might just start a habit that changes your relationship—five minutes at a time. Because love doesn’t grow in the grand moments. It grows in the quiet ones.

Love, Ollie