A Romance Revival

our dating & relationships therapist's thoughts on reviving your relationship

This piece was originally published in our monthly print newspaper The Retreat, Issue No. 20 REGENERATION. Written by our resident psychotherapist and dating and relationships columnist Amy Dong. To read this article, and other incredible pieces, in it’s intended analog form go to, www.theretreatbycarley.com/newspaper

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I have a friend (shoutout Laura) whose Instagram bio reads, "All I think about every day is romance.” I aspire to be like her because, typically, I’m not. My baseline speed is rushed. I’ll slurp a latte, walk straight past a bed of flowers, and forget to light my candles. Slowing down is my forever work—romance is my forever work.

Romance is defined as ‘a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life.’ I love the last piece of this definition: remoteness from everyday life. Romance is a kind of escape, a portal to nest into when routines, schedules, and tasks threaten a lackluster existence. When we lean into romance, we are truly present. We are slow and intentional. We are here.

There are also seasons to romance: proverbial summers of buying flowers and making elaborate meals for the sake of pleasure, paired with cold spells void of long conversations, connection, and deep presence. These phases exist within my relationship with my partner, but also within myself. Romance is something that we can share with a partner, but it doesn’t have to be. It can be just you and you.

Today, we’re exploring avenues to spiral deeper into romance. This column is split into two pieces: self and relationship. To be honest, though, they’re not mutually exclusive. Take what you need from each and leave what you don’t. It’s an all-you-can-soak-in romance buffet—an invitation to reignite love and pleasure in all areas of life.

SELF — the act and belief in romance

The romance we cultivate for ourselves is the baseline for the romance in our relationships (current or future). We can’t absorb the honeyed essence of romance with others if we haven’t made room for it with ourselves. It begins here. And this space is two-fold—it’s the act of love, but it’s also, first and foremost, the belief that we deserve it.

The belief

Based on our personal experiences, the narrative that we deserve romance might feel out of reach; pleasure might be something to earn, rather than a birthright. It certainly feels that way for me. Last year, romance became a practice, but it’s taken me this long to realize that I was missing the belief that I deserved it. Our relationship to romance is only as sacred as the narrative that it belongs to us.

The stories we tell ourselves about romance are so often inherited. We subconsciously exist in a generational cycle that dictates how we treat ourselves and our partners. Perhaps in your family it was considered lazy to luxuriate, or wasteful to buy flowers. Maybe your caregivers were rarely connected, whether they were separated or not. If no one modeled romance—such as with a candlelit dinner for two, or a long sweet solo walk to nowhere—your belief may very well be “Why would I deserve that?”

A gentle note about the questions below—editing and rewriting beliefs is lifelong work. Rather than big changes, dapple in small shifts. You will get there — I just know it.

Reflective questions to consider:

• What’s my narrative about what I do and don’t deserve? Who did I inherit this narrative from? Can I see where this belief took root and how it grew?

• Is it possible that this narrative is no longer serving me? If so, how might I gently untangle myself?

• In what ways can I infuse the belief that I am unendingly deserving of romance?

• How can I speak to myself with more tenderness?

• How can I treat myself with reverence in each moment?

The act

In the past year, the most magical women have drifted into my life, and built the most supportive web of friendship that’s ever held me. I also refuse to believe it’s a coincidence that all of these women have a dedicated romance practice: rituals that root them into the ephemerality of our existence. They act as mirrors, reflecting my deservingness. These women are so tapped into the feminine, so supple in the way they approach romance and the pace at which they reach for it.

They flirt with pleasure as if it's a craft (which…isn’t it?). They listen to jazz and light candles every night. They pursue beauty as an end, not a means. They sip tea slowly and stroll to the flower stand. They adorn themselves intentionally (Babaa knits, anyone?). They gently move their bodies and they twirl their forks with pasta. They read The Retreat with a pour over coffee. They stay rooted in the romance of this moment—and of the next.

So the question for you is: what acts of romance tether you to pleasure and tenderness? It can be anything: the slow turn of a record or the gentle simmering of soup. A movement practice or pair of shoes. What it is really doesn’t matter as much as how it makes you feel. First, we find it (or it finds us). Then, we practice.

PARTNERSHIP — an exploration of regeneration in a relationship that feels stale

Let’s talk about sticky seasons in partnership. They exist in every relationship. We know this anecdotally, but it can feel like a real shock to the system when we find our relationship dry and dehydrated. Whether our relationship feels rocky or simply a little dull, we’re often quick to catastrophize. We crave the early days before kids and responsibilities, when we had sex instead of falling asleep exhausted again, and when a sense of curiosity and hunger for one another was effortless. It’s easy to slip into doubt and tally up every tiny detail to decide if our relationship is doomed to fail.

But a temporary lack of connection is not a lack of compatibility. The need for regeneration in relationships is not only normal, but crucial to the evolution of our partnership. You heard it here first: It is okay that your relationship feels a little stale. Let’s focus on freshening it up:

Acknowledgment and expression

It’s so tempting to jump into action—to blame something for our lack of connection so that we can feel safe. But this middle space is actually where the connection begins. If our partner comes home from work and dodges the routine affectionate embrace, it’s heartwrenching. Our response (coming from a desire to feel safe) might be to demand an answer or quietly leave the room. And though it can feel raw and terrifying at times, vulnerability and collectively acknowledging the space between you and your partner is the first step to bridging the gap. It might sound something like this: Hey — I love you. Lately, I’ve been feeling a little far away from you. I’m wondering if you’ve maybe felt the same way. I love feeling close to you, so that’s why I’m bringing it up. Also, I want to validate that this is a totally normal part of relationships. Do you have any reactions or anything you’d like to share?

Asking the right questions

Again, let’s not hit the panic button. Sometimes, we feel bored, annoyed, and frustrated in our relationships—how human of us. Once we acknowledge or normalize the disconnect, we lean into curiosity. When was the last time we felt really connected? What were we doing? What was going on, contextually, in life? When do we feel the most inspired by each other? Get super curious here—no rules.

Let’s play

Esther Perel, relationship psychologist goddess, is the spokeswoman for play in our relationships. Being an adult can be exhausting. Groceries. Chores. Kids. Work. Family. Friends. Repeat. It can suck the fun right out of being alive. When was the last time you truly played together? And I do mean literally. A board game. Pickleball. Mini-golf. Trivia night. I love a good candlelit dinner, but it’s too much pressure when we’re easing back into connection. Create a weekly ritual to play together—keep it playful, and the romance will follow.

When it comes to our relationship with ourselves and our partners, fluidity is king. We’ll go stale and revitalize a hundred times over. We’ll regenerate over and over, finding brand new versions of ourselves in every iteration. We’re never done—and there’s a freedom in that.

So go out there and romance yourself and the ones you love. Let the revival begin.

xx

Amy