I’m out on a date with my husband for the first time in forever and my heart starts pounding like it’s my first rodeo.
I have no idea what to talk to him about.
I take a sip of my wine and rack my brain. Nothing comes to mind. Zilch. Nada. Crickets. I think he feels the same way, and it’s just so awkward.
The usual topics include our finances, work, our ageing parents or if all else fails, the kids.
But tonight, the conversation has well and truly run dry, and it’s not the first time.
I’m increasingly noticing this distance growing between us, and it plants a tiny seed of worry in my brain.
What’s going to happen when the kids leave? What if I have absolutely nothing in common with my husband any longer?
What if the children are the glue that keeps us together and without them, we’re lost?
My husband and I have always been opposites, but somehow we’ve made it work. He likes sport, Asian food and watching comedies. I like art, Italian cuisine and thrillers.
I read to unwind. He scrolls.
I enjoy talking about meaty topics like spirituality, climate change and sexuality. He avoids discussing anything too deep, especially feelings. You get the point.
When we first met, we could chat about anything. I remember in those early months we would stay up until 3am talking about all sorts of stuff from our past, our dreams and ideas for the future.
Nowadays, I feel like our only common denominator is the children. What happened to us?
I know I’m partly to blame. Somewhere along the way, I began to prioritise the children over my husband. Our relationship played second fiddle to their needs.
I read a passage in a book recently that reminded me of my mother and the kind of mother I aspired to be when I first began the crazy rollercoaster that is parenthood. It’s from Cheryl Strayed’s memoir, Wild: