Jeffrey Craven
Guest Writer

I didn’t plan on a 15-year dry spell in my marriage. It’s not something I put on the calendar or penciled in for ‘later.’ It snuck up on me. At first, it was just a rough patch – stress at work, a health scare, the kids pulling me in every direction. I told myself I’d  get back to it. I didn’t.

Then, the distance started to feel normal. We went from lovers to co-parents to friendly roommates. It’s not that the love was gone. It was there. It was just… buried. And when it’s been buried for years, digging it back up feels like an excavation of my mistakes, her hurts, and both our disappointments.

How It Gets That Way
For me, it wasn’t one big betrayal or a sudden explosion. It was a slow erosion. I spoke when I should have listened. I gave her gifts when she needed my presence. I gave her space when she actually wanted my arms around her. I thought I was showing love – but I was showing it in the way I wanted to, not the way she needed.

Pride played its part too. When I’m hurt or rejected, it’s tempting to retreat instead of try again. So, I stopped making moves because I was tired of being turned down. She stopped expecting them because they stopped coming. Before I knew it, the habit of not touching was stronger than the habit of reaching for each other.

The Long Road Back
Trying again after 40 years of marriage – 15 of those without intimacy – is terrifying. I’m not the young, bulletproof man I used to be. I’ve got a body that’s changed, scars from the battles we’ve fought together (and separately), and a partner who might not have the interest, motivation, or even the energy to rebuild that part of the relationship.

This isn’t like starting fresh. With someone new, I’d have no history to trip over. With my wife of four decades, every look, every silence, every “not tonight” carries the weight of years. When I try again, I’m not just risking rejection – I’m risking the little bit of peace I’ve rebuilt.

But here’s the truth: if I don’t try, I’ll regret it more than if I fail.

Healing Past Hurts
Healing isn’t just about ‘moving on.’ It’s about owning my part in what went wrong. For me, it has meant admitting that I’d been guessing at love for years instead of learning her language. I’ve had to let go of the idea that I know best and start seeing things her way.

That’s where the Art of Masculinity’s¹ code of chivalry² comes in – not the medieval, open-her-car-door-and-pay-for-dinner version (though kindness never hurts), but the deeper one:

Be Responsible for Yourself
Take responsibility for taking care of yourself. When you need help,
lean on the men

Honour the Connection
Even if the physical fire’s dimmed, protect and respect the connection you share

Give Her Your Best, Always
Not your leftovers after work, not your distracted attention while scrolling your phone.

Help her help you
When you’re struggling, let her in instead of shutting her out.

Celebrate Her Efforts to Make You a Better Man
Notice the ways she makes you a better man, and say them out loud.

Be generous
With your time, your affection, your patience.

Chivalry, in a marriage, isn’t about grand gestures—it’s about small acts, done daily, that tell her she matters more than your pride.

The Fear Factor
Let’s be real: rejection stings more at 62 than it did at 22. I’ve got fewer years ahead than behind, and I can’t help but feel that if it doesn’t change now, it never will.

But courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s moving forward in spite of it. Trying again, especially when my partner isn’t showing much interest, takes a level of vulnerability that I avoid like plague.

Here’s the thing: I can’t control her responses. I can only control the man I bring to her. That’s the heart of Live, Love, Lose, and Learn. It’s about letting go of pride, owning my mistakes, and showing up with the best of what I’ve learned – whether it’s received with open arms or not.

A Different Kind of Fire
After all this time, I may never get back the wildfire passion of my newlywed years. But I can build a steadier flame – one fueled by trust, mutual respect, and the willingness to keep learning each other, even after decades together.

If I can manage that, I might just find myself closer to her than I’ve ever been, even if the fire looks different than it used to. I’ll still feel the sadness for the years lost—but I’ll also feel the quiet satisfaction of knowing I didn’t quit on us.

Because in the end, marriage isn’t about never losing. It’s about living, loving, losing, and learning – over and over – until the day I’ve finally earned the love we both deserve. I’m not there yet. Sometimes I feel pretty far from it. But I’m committed to the code of chivalry, to move it forward, with the help of the men.

Live, Love, Lose, and Learn, a song by Jeffrey Craven³

1. Art of Masulinity weekend event is a GHGHGHGH.Code of Chivalry. ↩︎
2. The Art of Masculinity’s Code of Chivalry ↩︎
3. Craven, J. (2025). Live, Love, Lose, and Learn [Song]. The Thirst [Album]. Studio C – Jeffrey Craven Music. Lyrics by Craven, J. / Music by Riffusion. (2024). Riffusion (Version 4) [AI music generator]. ↩︎