It was Tuesday evening, around 7:30. The house was quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of our old floorboards. I was sitting in my recliner, half-watching the news, when I heard it.

That laugh. The one that starts as a giggle and builds into something that makes her whole body shake. My wife was on the couch, phone in hand, absolutely delighted by whatever was on that screen.

I turned to watch her, and something hit me like a punch to the gut. When was the last time I made her laugh like that? Really laugh, not just a polite chuckle at my dad jokes or a smile at my commentary during movies. I’m talking about genuine, spontaneous, can’t-help-yourself laughter.

The answer made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t remember.

1. How relationships quietly drift into autopilot

You know how it goes. Somewhere between year five and year forty-one, conversations become transactions. “Did you call the plumber?” “What do you want for dinner?” “Don’t forget we have that thing on Saturday.”

We stopped being entertainers for each other and became logistics coordinators. We stopped trying to surprise each other with humor and settled into comfortable predictability.

The pottery class where we met all those years ago? We were both terrible at it, laughing at our lopsided bowls and clay-covered hands. Now our days run like clockwork, efficient but rarely amusing.

This isn’t about blame. We both let it happen. Life gets busy, then it gets routine, then before you know it, you’re two people sharing a house and a history but forgetting to share joy.

2. The wake-up call of almost losing everything

Here’s something most couples won’t admit: sometimes you need to almost lose each other to remember why you chose each other in the first place.

About fifteen years ago, we nearly called it quits. The details aren’t important, but we were both convinced the other person had fundamentally changed. Turns out we were both right and both wrong. We had changed, but we’d also stopped putting in the effort to know the new versions of each other.

During our rough patch, a therapist asked us to each write down what first attracted us to the other person. You know what was on both our lists? Humor. She wrote that I made her laugh during the worst day of her life (she’d just failed an exam). I wrote that her sense of humor was wickedly unexpected.

We saved our marriage, but somewhere along the way, we forgot that lesson again.

3. Rediscovering playfulness isn’t just for kids

After that Tuesday evening revelation, I decided to run an experiment. For one month, I would actively try to make my wife laugh at least once a day. Not forced, not scheduled, just being more present and playful.

The first few attempts were awkward. I tried too hard, recycling old jokes that fell flat. But then I started paying attention to what actually amused her.

Turns out, she loves when I do impressions of our neighbors. She finds it hilarious when I narrate what our dog might be thinking. She appreciates clever wordplay more than I realized.

Last week, I left a sticky note on her coffee mug that said, “Warning: Contents may cause extreme alertness and spontaneous productivity.” She laughed. Actually laughed. Then she stuck it on the fridge where it still sits.

4. Small gestures create bigger connections

You want to know a secret about long marriages? The big romantic gestures everyone talks about? They’re overrated. What matters is showing up in small ways, consistently.

Every Wednesday, we have coffee at this little place downtown. Started doing it after I took early retirement at 62, when I was feeling lost and needed structure.

But here’s what I learned: those coffee dates work best when we ban phones and actually talk. Not about bills or schedules, but about ridiculous things. Last week we spent twenty minutes debating whether squirrels have meetings about winter food storage.

She laughed so hard she snorted. In public. It was beautiful.

5. Why humor might be the best relationship insurance

Think about the couples you know who’ve made it. Really made it, not just stayed together out of habit. They usually have one thing in common: they still make each other laugh.

Laughter does something profound. It breaks down walls, defuses tension, and reminds you that this person chose to face life’s absurdities with you. When you can laugh together about the water heater breaking on Christmas Eve or the disaster of trying to assemble furniture without reading instructions, you’re building resilience.

But here’s the thing: maintaining humor in a relationship requires intention. It requires paying attention to your partner’s evolving sense of humor. What made her laugh at 27 might not work at 68. You have to keep learning who they are.

6. The unexpected benefits of being the court jester

Since I started this little mission of mine, something interesting has happened. I’m happier too. Trying to make someone else laugh forces you out of your own head. It makes you observe more, create more, risk looking foolish more often.

Yesterday, I attempted to juggle oranges in the kitchen. Failed miserably. Oranges everywhere. But she laughed, and then we were both on the floor laughing, and suddenly we were 28 again, just for a moment.

In one of my previous posts, I wrote about how retirement can feel like losing your identity. What I’m learning now is that you can create new identities at any age. At 68, I’m becoming the husband who makes his wife laugh again. Not a bad identity to claim.

Final thoughts

That Tuesday evening wake-up call changed something fundamental for me. Watching my wife laugh at her phone wasn’t painful because I was jealous of technology or worried about our relationship. It was painful because it showed me how lazy I’d become in one of the areas that matters most.

We have this idea that long marriages run on deep love and commitment. They do. But they also run on laughter, on inside jokes, on the daily choice to be not just a partner but a source of joy.

Tomorrow marks six weeks since I started trying to make her laugh every day. She’s noticed. Yesterday she told me I seem lighter lately. Then she showed me the funny video from her phone, and we laughed together.

That’s progress. That’s everything.