I once believed that my future wife and I would have a loving, peaceful, kind and drama-free relationship. And then I got married …

We were young and in love, and we were both addicted to our drama, which was completely based in our full blown ego identification. This lead to what we would think of as a fairly happy and normal marriage. We had our ‘differences,’ we had our fights, but you got to have make up sex for those. We would gladly take breaks from each other by hanging out with girlfriends or best buddies, and we would try to communicate the needs we each had as best we could. We would try to fight fairly. I knew when my wife was in a good, bad or indifferent mood, and I would know exactly how our (my) day or evening would go as a result. Fights had a clear structure, we would know who would start it, how it would go, how dramatic it would get, and where we would end up as a result. It sometimes felt as though it was completely scripted, and completely predictable as a result. But this was also normal, and in certain ways comfortable, because it was so predictable. There was such a familiarity with it that it also felt certain and safe in a way.

We kept tabs, too. On all kinds of things. We would remember who did what last, how many times, who had messed up how badly in how many ways, who had disappointed, hurt, forgotten something, broken a promise or not delivered on something. And based on that emotional list of errors, trespasses and wrongdoings, we would know in our own minds who had more to make up for. This was marriage after all, and marriage takes work and commitment. It also means give and take. And that’s what those lists were helpful for. So when the other made up for something on the list, it would feel good, we would feel closer and love(d). For a while things would go well. Only it didn’t last. We both figured out that this was not working for us, and we got very amicably divorced. We are much better friends than spouses.

I promised myself that there would only be a next time if it could be like the first sentence at the top. I thought that was a long shot. And then I met my second wife.

We have been together for almost seven years, married for four, and I can honestly say that we have not once raised our voices to each other in anger in that time. We have had three fights exactly, and to an outsider they would have not looked like much. I have not once had a disrespectful or mean thought about my wife in all this time. Not a single day goes by that I am not grateful for having her in my life. She tells me that she feels the same. We love to hang out with each other, and we literally are sad when one of us has to go on a trip for a few days or weeks and will not be around. We talk a lot, and we are also quiet with each other a lot. We just really enjoy each others’ company. In the beginning, when people asked how things were going with us, I almost didn’t know how to answer that, because I felt strange about having such a loving, peaceful, kind and drama-free relationship. It was eerie. As though there was no way it could last. It did and it still does.

Now sometimes people ask us how we do it, they think we are extremely lucky, they think it can’t last, or that we are lying. We laugh and wonder how we would answer the question, and here it is:

We do not have any expectations of each other. None. Zero. Zilch. Seriously, none.

We love and accept ourselves the way we are, at all times. We ask things of each other, but always free of any expectation. We say what we see when we need to, but we have no expectation of the other to have to see it too, or to have to change as a result. We each get to do what we choose, because we both cherish the freedom to choose above all else. We choose to be with the other every moment, and we know it. We don’t expect to be loved or to be together forever, but in doing so that is exactly what happens. There is a tremendous freedom and joy in being with another person without any expectation. There is no room for ego identification in this. Once that sneaks in, it feels like dirt dropping into pristine water.

No expectations. Try it out in your relationship with yourself first, and see what happens. You may just like it. Then try it with a loved one. You may just love it.

Cheers,

Ralf