The music pulsed through the speakers, disco lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. I caught my husband’s eye and felt a thrill ripple through me as our bodies undulated in unison to the thumping bass. As we danced, I raised my glass and announced to our gathered friends that we’d be celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary at midnight.<\/p>
Eighteen years of learning how to dance\u2014together.<\/p>
And I don’t just mean choreography on the dance floor. I mean the intricate, often challenging steps of a long-term relationship\u2014learning new rhythms, making missteps, and still choosing to spin through another song or rest our heads on each other’s shoulders for the next slow dance.<\/p>
When Duane and I first met, he didn’t dance. He was hesitant, awkward, and lacked coordination. And yes\u2014he stepped on my toes more than once. He preferred books to nightclubs, quiet corners to loud beats. I, on the other hand, found liberation and sensuality in movement. We were opposites, like so many couples.<\/p>
At first, it frustrated me\u2014how out of sync we were, not just on the dance floor, but in daily life. We did things differently, expressed ourselves differently. Sometimes, it embarrassed me. Other times, his contrary actions left me feeling alone and misunderstood. I questioned if I had chosen the right partner. After all, shouldn’t love feel attuned? Shouldn’t we be able to move together?<\/p>
But love invites us to stretch.<\/p>
The missteps became invitations\u2014to grow individually and as a couple. Dancing became a metaphor for our relationship: adjusting, risking, and recovering when we inevitably stepped on each other’s toes or inadvertently poked the other in the eye. Over the years, we kept practicing\u2014dancing through the frustration, the awkwardness, the disappointments. We danced barefoot in the kitchen and went to Zumba at the gym. We took salsa lessons in preparation for our trip to Cali, Colombia<\/a>, the salsa capital of the world. We watched videos of Dave Gahan from Depeche Mode<\/a> and copied his moves, laughing as we went.<\/p> I became more patient and less judgmental. I stopped insisting on doing it my way and opened up to discovering a new dance\u2014one we created together. Slowly, Duane became more confident in moving his body. And I, in turn, became more still. Over time, I found myself reading more, discovering the quiet pleasure in a good book, a contrast to my earlier restlessness. These were subtle shifts – me curled up with a novel on the couch, him rolling his shoulders to the groove in the kitchen – that reflected a deeper transformation in both of us. We were learning each other’s languages, expanding our inner worlds, and softening into new dimensions of ourselves. <\/p> Recently, I came across a striking reflection from Pope Francis<\/a>, one of his last writings before he died, published in The New York Times<\/em> on April 28, 2025, in a piece titled “On Tango, and Lasting Marriage.”<\/a> The Pope, who once danced tango<\/a> on the streets of Buenos Aires, described the dance as “a wonderful, free game\u2026 filled with erotic charm and attraction.” He wrote: “… dancers court each other and experience closeness and distance, sensuality, attention, discipline, and dignity. They rejoice in love and understand what it might mean to give themselves to someone completely.” He calls this dynamic Amoris Laetitia<\/em>\u2014the joy of love.<\/p> And like any committed partnership, tango must be practiced. It’s not about getting every move right\u2014it’s about staying in connection when you get it wrong. The same is true of love. Intimacy, like dance, is a process of repair and return. You will stumble. The magic lies in how you recover and how you grow.<\/p> Pope Francis also celebrates the sensuality of the tango. That’s part of what makes it so captivating\u2014the erotic tension, the push and pull. Long-term relationships need that dynamism. The erotic spark, the ability to be both close and separate, to tease and to pursue, keeps love evolving and alive. But this kind of sensual play must be mutual and consensual\u2014otherwise, it’s not a dance. It’s a power struggle.<\/p> Love moves. It flows. It asks us to stay curious, to keep learning new steps, and to remain willing to be clumsy. That’s how we evolve\u2014not just as a couple, but as individuals. In committed relationships, every new chapter\u2014raising a child, facing a loss, aging, rebuilding trust, exploring desire\u2014asks us to learn new moves. Sometimes, we have to relearn how to listen, how to speak gently, how to forgive, how to flirt, and how to let go. And each time we say yes to the next step, we expand our capacity for love.<\/p> So often, the modern narrative tells us that commitment is constraining, that marriage dulls desire, and that independence is more empowering than interdependence. But I’ve found the opposite to be true. A loving, committed relationship is a crucible for transformation. It offers the safety to be vulnerable and the structure to take emotional risks. It invites us to expand\u2014not in spite of our partner, but because of them.<\/p> This is the deeper work of marriage counseling\u2014helping couples move through the awkward steps of communication breakdowns, unmet needs, and fading desire to rediscover their rhythm and passion. Through intentional connection and skill-building, couples can shift from surviving to thriving.<\/p> Yes, toes will be stepped on. And yes, sometimes the music changes when you least expect it. But there is something profoundly rewarding about having a partner who’s willing to keep dancing with you\u2014through discomfort, discovery, and delight. In today’s world, where many choose independence over commitment, we often forget\u2014or never learn\u2014what’s possible inside a long-term relationship. Yes, love takes courage. Yes, it requires effort. But when we practice intimacy as an art, a dance, a discipline\u2014something exquisite can emerge.<\/p> In marriage and sex therapy, couples learn the steps of conflict repair, erotic expression, emotional safety, and mutual attunement. Many come to therapy seeking tools to reignite their erotic connection, making sex therapy a vital part of their relational growth. They want to move together again, to feel alive in their connection.<\/p> Pope Francis reminds us that great love isn’t found. It’s forged. Forged in presence, in passion, in practice. Like the tango, it demands discipline, creativity, surrender, and skill. And when it’s done well, it is breathtaking.<\/p> To be in love for eighteen years doesn’t mean we stopped stepping on each other’s toes. It means we accepted those stumbles as part of the dance\u2014Amoris Laetitia<\/em>, the joy of love. If you’re struggling in your relationship, feel out of step, or desire has faded, consider marriage counseling or sex therapy. Learn the skills to take your relationship to the next level. Grow together. And as Leonard Cohen croons, “Dance me to the end of love.”<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Marriage Counseling, Sex Therapy<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1300,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1299","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n