The Marriage Minute — October 3, 2026

Here's a hard truth I learned somewhere around year ten of marriage: Deb and I were both trying really hard at loving each other — and both quietly feeling unloved.

Think about that for a second. Two people, working hard, giving everything they know how to give… and missing each other completely. Not because they didn't care. Because they were speaking different languages.

The dish that never got done

Years ago, I was the king of words. I could compliment Deb's cooking, tell her she looked great, leave her little notes. In my head, I was killing it. She was amazing, I told her so, end of story.

Meanwhile, what Deb actually needed was for somebody to just… do the dishes.

Not praise about the meal. The dishes. Done. Without being asked. Because for Deb, love wasn't something you said — it was something you did. Every compliment I gave her landed flat while she was standing in the kitchen thinking, "If he loves me so much, why am I the only one cleaning up?"

And here's the kicker — I had the exact same thing happening in reverse. I'd tell her she was doing great and she'd nod and walk off, and I'd stand there wondering why she never seemed to notice how hard I was trying. I was pouring love out in my language. She was listening for hers.

That's what most couples miss about love languages. You tend to give love the way you want to receive it — not the way your spouse actually needs it. The words-of-affirmation person married to the acts-of-service person will say all the right things while the trash piles up. The gift-giver married to the quality-time person will show up with flowers while their spouse is starving for an hour on the couch, no phones. Nobody's wrong. Everybody's exhausted.

What changed it for us

Somewhere in there, one of us — I honestly don't remember who — stopped trying to be more impressive and just asked a simple question:

"What makes you feel most loved?"

And then the important part: we believed the answer.

When Deb said she needed help around the house more than compliments, I didn't argue that my words were meaningful. I didn't explain why she should feel loved the way I loved. I just started doing the dishes. And she started looking for my love language too — those words I'd been giving were the words I also needed to hear.

It sounds almost too simple. But twenty-six years and eight kids later, I'm telling you: that one question has fixed more bad evenings in our house than any date night, vacation, or anniversary gift ever did. Date nights are great. But Tuesday matters more.

Try this today

Tonight, ask your spouse this exact question: "What makes you feel most loved?"

Then — and this is the part most of us skip — do that thing. Not your version of it. Their version. If they say it's when you handle something without being asked, go handle it. If it's an hour with no distractions, put the phone in the drawer. If it's words, say them out loud, not in a text, with your eyes on theirs.

And brace yourself: the answer might not match what you think you already know. After twenty-six years, I still get surprised. People change. Love languages aren't a life sentence — they're a conversation.

Start the conversation

Here's a question you can ask at dinner tonight: "When was the last time you really felt loved by me — and what was I doing?" Don't defend. Don't explain. Just listen. The answer will tell you more about your marriage in two minutes than a year of guessing.

Because most of the time, your spouse isn't asking you to love them harder. They're asking you to love them in their language.

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