People think a long, happy marriage is some mystical secret or a rare genetic lottery win. But if you ask me, being married for 25 years and still being in love isn’t magic. It’s a series of small, daily decisions. It’s about learning, laughing, screwing up, and finding your way back to each other—again and again.
Looking back, I realize the biggest thing we did right was chasing memories, not stuff. Sure, we bought the house and the cars, but it’s the stories that last. The time we took the wrong train in Italy and ended up wandering through a sleepy town. The vacations where something always went sideways, the inside jokes that nobody else would get. You can fill a house with junk, but memories are what tie you together when the years get tough.
A lot of people seem to think happiness in marriage is about sacrifice, about giving up what you love for your partner. There’s some truth there, but not in the way people imagine. I’m still my own person. I have my hobbies, my wife has hers, and we support each other. She gardens, I tinker with cars. We spend time together, we spend time apart. The trick isn’t to lose yourself in the other person, but to make sure both of you have room to grow and to enjoy seeing the other person light up.
People sometimes ask about the secret sauce. If there’s one thing, it’s this: genuinely enjoy making your partner happy. There’s nothing like doing something small that lights up her face. I’ve bought her books she mentioned once in passing, she’s surprised me with gifts for hobbies she doesn’t care about. It’s about the joy of making the other person feel seen.
Of course, it’s not perfect. Nobody makes it 25 years without some scars. There have been fights. There’s been resentment, stress, times when I traveled for work and she was holding down the fort with two young kids in a blizzard back home. I had to learn—sometimes the hard way—that it’s not just about solving problems, but about really listening. Sometimes my wife doesn’t want me to fix it. She wants me to hear her. I learned to put my ego aside and to apologize when I’m wrong, even when it stings.
That doesn’t mean I’m always right, or that she is. It means sometimes you let things breathe. Sometimes you pick your battles. You realize, as you get older, that you don’t have to win every argument. The real win is staying a team, even if you don’t always agree.
One thing I know: loyalty matters. I’ve had chances to cheat. I’ve had opportunities to blow up everything we’ve built. Every time, I came back to this—why burn down a life that took decades to build, for a fantasy that lasts a night? Lust is a mirage. The reality is, there’s deep pride and comfort in knowing we’re true to each other. If you treat your marriage as sacred, it changes how you move through the world.
People think money will make it all easier, but we started with nothing. I bought the engagement ring with twelve bucks left in my account. We built our life together from scratch. Sure, being financially comfortable helps—less stress, more freedom to travel and make memories—but I’d be lying if I said money is what keeps us close. The truth is, her support made all my success possible.
Sex? Still a big part of our marriage. We make it a priority. I want it more, she wants it less, so we meet in the middle. She wants me to do things I’m less crazy about, I do them anyway. That’s the deal. We communicate, even about the stuff that’s awkward or hard. There’s nothing I can’t suggest. Sometimes she laughs at me. But the fact that we can talk about it, that we’re both still trying—that keeps things fresh.
We also give each other space. Separate vacations, time with friends, independence. But we always come back to each other, and we never let anything or anyone drive a wedge between us. The people we hang out with matter too. We keep company with other couples who love each other, who show up for their families, not people who are bitter or checked out of life.
If you want a shortcut: kiss your spouse every morning, keep memories at the center, and never let the kids come before the marriage. Marriage is hard, but it’s worth it.
I look at my wife now, and I still think she’s smoking hot. I still want her to think I’m some kind of rockstar. I work at it, and so does she. We care about our health and how we look for each other. But more than anything, I know her inside and out. Her smile, her laugh, the little things that make her her. After 25 years, she’s still a universe I never get tired of exploring.
People say happily ever after is a myth. Maybe it is. But happy most days, with someone who’s got your back, who makes the tough days better and the good days brighter—that’s as close to magic as it gets.
And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.