Love Actually (and Imperfectly): What the Holidays Reveal About Our Relationships

I am back in London this week, tucked beside a fogged window in a Soho café, watching people dodge puddles and armfuls of shopping bags. London in December is a little sentimental and a little chaotic. Lights are strung across narrow streets. A busker is trying out carols that are not quite in tune. I am here on my own this trip. Al and I will be back together next month to see the Christmas lights. That small space between us is not a problem. It is a reminder. The holidays tend to magnify whatever is already in a relationship, the tender parts and the frayed edges too.

Some couples walk past the window laughing and pointing at a display. Others move in silence and look tired in the nice way that comes after a long day. Inside the café, I can hear a quiet debate about how many gifts count as enough. At another table, two people sit without talking. One scrolls a phone. The other stirs a drink that is long cold. None of it looks wrong to me. It looks like love in the wild. It is messy. It is ordinary. It is real.

The season has a way of turning up the volume on our patterns. If you tend to fix things for everyone, you may overextend. If you tend to avoid, you may go quiet. If you seek reassurance, you may ask for it again and still not feel satisfied. This is not about blame. It is about awareness. When the holidays expose a crack, they are not shaming you. They are pointing to a place that can be strengthened when January comes.

Real connection rarely comes from big gestures. It comes from presence. Presence is the kind of attention that says I am here and I am listening. It shows up in small moments that are easy to miss when life gets loud. Sit together at the end of the day and ask, What do you need right now. Not, What is wrong. The first question invites care. The second can sound like a test. In Making Love Last I come back to this again and again. Relationships are built from small moments, repeated often. The holidays are a perfect time to practice because the noise makes the small moments stand out.

Being here without Al gives me a clean view of our ordinary rituals. The morning check in. Watchdog TV after dinner. The way we repair when we snap at each other. The distance lets me notice what still works and where we drift. When we meet back up here next month, I want to bring a fresh appetite for what anchors us. Not the perfect schedule. Not the perfect plan. Just a choice to show up and pay attention.

If you feel irritated this month, treat that feeling like useful data. If you feel lonely while standing in a crowded room, treat that as useful too. Strong couples still have those moments. The difference is that they notice sooner, and they repair sooner. A repair can be tiny. You can reach for your partner’s hand on the Tube after a tense morning. You can say, I am sorry I got sharp with you. I want to start again. Most of the time that is enough to change the climate of the day.

Here is something I see often in my work with couples. December brings out the old rules that no longer fit. You may hear, We always go to my family on Christmas Eve. Or, We always spend this much on gifts. Traditions can hold us, but they can also box us in. If a ritual brings joy, keep it. If it drains you or creates fights you keep having, consider revising it. Relationships grow. Rituals should grow with them.

Presence over perfection is the move this season. You do not need a flawless plan. You need shared attention. Sit on the sofa with no screens for ten minutes after dinner. Ask one good question. What would feel like care to you this week. If your partner answers with something you did not expect, believe them. Trade the fantasy of being the perfect partner for the practice of becoming the attentive one. The attentive one notices, checks in, and repairs. The attentive one brings humor when things feel tight and calls for a short pause when tempers rise.

Speaking of humor, it helps. I watched a couple today take a wrong turn, step into a puddle, and then laugh so hard they had to stop walking. That laughter looked like repair to me. It was a reminder that levity is not denial. It is a way to let the body come down from a spike of stress. If laughter is hard to find, try simple gratitude. One specific thank you a day shifts the tone. Thank you for handling the travel booking. Thank you for cooking. Thank you for listening to my rant and not trying to fix it.

Maybe the real gift this season is not what we buy but what we notice. Notice how you speak to each other when you are tired. Notice how you come back together after a sharp word. Notice what helps your nervous system settle. Tea helps some people. A short walk helps others. A quiet five minutes with phones on airplane mode can feel like a reset button. Build a small list together and use it when things go sideways.

If you are partnered this season, let go of the idea that love should look a certain way. Your relationship may be tender, or messy, or in progress. That is still love. It is love, actually. The kind that does not need to perform for a photo and does not need to hit a perfect script. It is the kind that pays attention and chooses to try again. I will be here a few more days, drinking average coffee and watching London lean into the holidays. Next month I will be back with Al to walk under the lights. We will not do it perfectly. We will do it together, and that will be enough

Want to go deeper. Making Love Last has more tools for Your Relationship Playbook, plus simple ways to keep touch alive as bodies change. The goal is not a perfect body. The goal is honest pleasure in the body you have and love for the man you are with.

Buy the Book Here

Dr Steve May

www.drstevemay.com