The voices of dozens of people at our wedding buzzed through my head:

"Cherish it while it lasts!" "You'll never feel more in love! "This is going to be the best first year of your marriage! The honeymoon phase is amazing!"

We're they trying to say the other years are the worst? Where did I sign up for this?

“So how was your first year of marriage?” Our therapist’s eyes stared back at me through the screen. I was zoned out. This was our first year in couples counseling, officially.

I held my breath and awaited my husband's response. “It was great. I’m very happy. How do you feel, babe?" he turned to me.

This was just a routine visit but it felt like someone had glued my lips shut with concrete and I had to open them with a jack hammer. But the truth was eating away at me.

“Actually?...” I paused and my husband's eyebrows started to rise.

”It was the most awful year of my life. I’m not happy–at all. Whatever this honeymoon ‘phase’ is, feels like it has expired at the altar.” 

I don’t know if it was five seconds or five minutes but the silence could cut my computer screen in half. 

Confusion consumed his face. “What? Why?”

“It’s hard to explain. I feel like your roommate. You don’t take me on dates. There’s no romance. I’m lonely in the house we both live in.” 

“I just don’t understand how you could feel like this? I feel blindsighted. Are we living on different planets? I feel like I can’t do anything right!?” he questioned.

Frustration filled his voice, “When you say that, it makes me feel inadequate.” “I’ve been trying and it’s not enough for you...”

I could tell he was desperate to understand. It felt like I was struggling to untangle this complicated, angry ball of yarn in front of him and every undone knot got us closer to the truth. A crisis of definition? A failure to communicate?

We had only gotten married a year ago. The expectations were high. I had every reason to believe them. I knew I had married a partner with great character but I was building resentment. We both had expectations that we failed to communicate. I thought: pre marital my a*S.

I felt like everyday my romance fuel tank started on zero and needed to be filled daily. His tank starts full every month and loses fuel over time. He needed touch, I needed help. I wasn't in the mood to touch unless I had help, he wasn't in the mood to help unless he was touched. Giving was clearly a game of expectations and trust had been broken between us.

I had no way idea at the time that this was an epidemic. —or not unique to us at least. Many people felt this way. When responsibilities and stress pile up, so does the distance.

The perceived stress almost came too much to bear. We could’ve thrown in the towel right then and there. But even though love may be unconditional, relationships certainly aren't. I had to put down my perfection, he had to put down complacency. We both had to give a little to get—and that exchange had to become a habit. We had to have a healthy expectation that our partner would show up how we needed them to. Slowly but surely we built the evidence to prove we’d show up for each other and rebuild trust. Which took one selfless act after another. Our respective needs had to become more important than our own at times to start the cycle of healing. Eventually, we started turning back the clock. We got our redo. That’s a gift I want to offer to every couple out there.

Our Next Weekend FL was born out of a refusal to give up on my relationship and created for partners who WANT to please their significant other but don’t know how to take that first step. We want to make love feel simple, rewarding, and as flirty as it started. We help ALL people reclaim relationships through breaking barriers so couples never have to be lonely again. A year later, we’ve shown everyone around us that the honeymoon phase is only a phase because someone, somewhere, sometime, gave up. The honeymoon glow is yours anytime. We empower couples the confidence to win Each other over. Our Next Weekend FL: Your redo starts now.