The Difference Between Being Loved and Feeling Loved

 My husband often tells me that everything is always about me. But I struggle to understand how that can be true when so many of the things I want and need in our relationship are the very things that never happen.

I am a romantic. My husband is not. I accepted that a long time ago. I don't expect him to become someone he isn't, but I do wish he would make an effort in ways that matter to me.

We've been together for almost three and a half years. During that time, he has asked me out to dinner once. He decorated the house with flower petals and candles once. He has never planned a date night, a weekend getaway, a birthday celebration, or a special event just because he wanted to make me feel loved. He's never cooked me dinner as a surprise or taken the lead on creating a special memory for us.

When I express that these things matter to me, he says I'm materialistic. But none of those things have anything to do with money.

A handwritten letter costs nothing.

A dance in the living room costs nothing.

Planning a picnic, a date night, or a surprise evening together doesn't require expensive gifts.

What I want isn't stuff. What I want is thoughtfulness.

I want to feel seen.

I want to feel loved.

I want to feel special.

I don't think those are unreasonable things for a wife to want from her husband.

The truth is, I am the one who plans everything. Every vacation we've taken has been planned by me—from the flights to the hotel, the restaurants, the activities, and every detail in between. Every date night has been my idea. Every outing, every experience, every adventure has happened because I made it happen.

It's not because I enjoy carrying all of that responsibility. It's because if I don't do it, it simply doesn't happen.

Over time, I've actually stopped planning as much. I've spent more weekends at home because I know that's what he prefers. I don't even remember the last time we had a real date night. I think having one date night a month is a pretty normal expectation for a married couple, but I stopped asking because it always falls back on me to decide everything.

When you're the one planning every surprise, every date, every vacation, and every special moment, eventually it stops feeling exciting. It starts feeling lonely.

I've planned surprise birthday parties for him. I've surprised him with concert tickets to see his favorite artists. I've bought tickets to his favorite comedian. I've planned romantic anniversary getaways, comedy shows, birthday trips, dinners with friends, and game nights at our house. I've decorated rooms with flowers, candles, and special touches simply because I wanted him to feel loved.

I write him little love letters and leave them on his dresser so he'll find them after work. I ask him to meet me for lunch during the day because I genuinely enjoy spending time with him. I try to show him, in countless ways, how much he means to me.

That is the effort I put into our relationship.

When it comes to my birthday, Christmas, or our anniversary, he often says he doesn't know what to get me. Eventually, I start dropping hints because otherwise nothing happens. I find myself practically telling him exactly what to buy or what I would enjoy.

The hard part is that he knows me.

He knows my favorite foods.

He knows my favorite places.

He knows the things that make me happy.

He knows the artists I love, the hotels I've shown him, the restaurants I enjoy, and the experiences I dream about.

Yet very rarely does he take that information and turn it into action.

He could surprise me by trying to make my favorite meal. I've done that for him. Was it perfect? No. But I tried because I knew it would make him happy.

He could plan a night away at one of the romantic hotels I've shown him.

He could buy tickets to see one of my favorite singers.

He could plan a date without asking me to organize every detail.

He could simply show me that he thinks about what would make me smile.

I know there are times when he may not know exactly what to do. There are plenty of times I don't know what I want to do for him either. The difference is that I start thinking about it weeks in advance. I research ideas. I search Google. I look on TikTok. I ask questions. I put in the effort to figure it out.

The idea itself doesn't have to be original.

The effort does.

That's what matters.

Sometimes I look at our daily routine and wonder where that effort exists for me.

He wakes up, gives me a couple quick kisses, tells me he loves me, and leaves for work. He kisses me when he gets home. Occasionally, he'll tell me he loves me while we're lying in bed.

And that's usually it.

Unless I initiate affection, seek him out, or say "I love you" first, there often isn't much more.

So sometimes I find myself wondering: when during the day am I crossing his mind? When is he thinking about what makes me happy? When is he thinking about what I need from him?

Because if he truly understands what makes me feel loved, then what I need is so much more than what I'm currently receiving.

The hardest part is that despite all of this, I still love him deeply. I still choose him every day. I still try.

So when I'm told that everything is always about me, it hurts.

Because from where I'm standing, I've spent most of my life making sure everyone else feels loved, supported, celebrated, and happy.

I've made other people a priority.

I've made their happiness matter.

And sometimes I wonder what it would feel like if someone put that same effort into me.