To which Pete loudly responded, “I do need a wife. Don’t you understand? That’s the whole point. I do need a wife.”
But Patsy did not understand. She was extremely confused. In her search for answers, she went to the public library and checked out several books on marriage. “Marriage is not supposed to be this way,” she reasoned. “I have to find an answer to our situation.” When Pete went to the computer room, Patsy would pick up her book. In fact on many evenings, she read until midnight. On his way to bed, Pete would notice her and make sarcastic comments such as, “If you read that much in college, you would have made straight A’s.” Patsy would respond, “I am not in college. I’m in marriage, and right now, I’d be satisfied with a C.” Pete went to bed without so much as a second glance.
At the end of the first year, Patsy was desperate.
At the end of the first year, Patsy was desperate. She had mentioned it before, but this time she calmly said to Pete, “I am going to find a marriage counselor. Do you want to go with me?”
But Pete answered, “I don’t need a marriage counselor. I don’t have time to go to a marriage counselor. I can’t afford a marriage counselor.”
“Then I’ll go alone,” said Patsy.
“Fine, you are the one who needs counseling anyway.”
The conversation was over. Patsy felt totally alone, but the next week she made an appointment with a marriage counselor. After three sessions, the counselor called Pete and asked if he would be willing to come in to talk about his perspective on their marriage. Pete agreed, and the process of healing began. Six months later, they left the counselor’s office with a new marriage.
I said to Pete and Patsy, “What did you learn in counseling that turned your marriage around?”
“In essence, Dr. Chapman,” Pete said, “we learned to speak each other’s love language. The counselor did not use that term, but as you gave the lecture today, the lights came on. My mind raced back to our counseling experience, and I realized that’s exactly what happened to us. We finally learned to speak each other’s love language.”
“So what is your love language, Pete?” I asked.
“Physical touch,” he said without hesitation.
“Physical touch for sure,” said Patsy.
“And yours, Patsy?”
“Quality time, Dr. Chapman. That’s what I was crying for in those days while he was spending all his time with his job and his computer.”
“How did you learn that physical touch was Pete’s love language?”
“It took a while,” Patsy said. “Little by little, it began to come out in the counseling. At first, I don’t think Pete even realized it.”
“She’s right,” Pete said. “I was so insecure in my own sense of self-worth that it took forever for me to be willing to identify and acknowledge that her lack of touch had caused me to withdraw. I never told her that I wanted to be touched, although I was crying inside for her to reach out and touch me. In our dating relationship, I had always taken the initiative in hugging, kissing, and holding hands, but she had always been responsive. I felt that she loved me, but after we got married, there were times that I reached out to her physically and she was not responsive. Maybe with her new job responsibilities she was too tired. I don’t know, but I took it personally. I felt that she didn’t find me attractive. Then I decided I would not take the initiative because I didn’t want to be rejected. So I waited to see how long it would be before she’d initiate a kiss or a touch or sexual intercourse. Once I waited for six weeks before she touched me at all. I found it unbearable. My withdrawal was to stay away from the pain I felt when I was with her. I felt rejected, unwanted, and unloved.”
Then Patsy said, “I had no idea that that was what he was feeling. I knew that he was not reaching out to me. We were not kissing and hugging as we had done earlier, but I just assumed that since we were married, that was not as important to him now. I knew that he was under pressure with his job. I had no idea that he wanted me to take the initiative.
“He’s right. I would go weeks without touching him. It didn’t cross my mind. I was preparing meals, keeping the house clean, doing his laundry, and trying to stay out of his way. I honestly didn’t know what else I could be doing. I could not understand his withdrawal or his lack of attention to me. It’s not that I dislike touching; it’s just that it was never that important to me. Spending time with me is what made me feel loved and appreciated, giving me attention. It really didn’t matter whether we hugged or kissed. As long as he gave me his attention, I felt loved.