Rituals for (Re)connecting
How one night-in rituals keep us close—and the creative ways other couples stay connected after being physically and emotional intimate with others.
Building a Ritual, One Saturday at a Time
Saturday night. I walked into our bedroom holding a vase of flowers, only to find another one already standing on the dresser. I smiled. My husband, Rich, has never been consistent at buying me flowers, but often does for special occasions. He thought of tonight as a special occasion.
Rich was upstairs reading to our eight-year-old daughter. Downstairs, the dishwasher was running. I could faintly hear the murmurs of his voice and the rumbling in the kitchen, and I smiled. It was going to be a good night in.
If I were writing this for another audience, I might make a joke, Oh, He only does these things when he knows he’s about to get lucky. And maybe that’s part of it. But it’s not the full story. Besides, I’m about to get “lucky” too, but luck has nothing to do with it.
We’d both been looking forward to this night. We don’t have a fancy name for it. We call it: Our Night In. However, when I discuss it in the context of an open relationship, I refer to it as Our Ritual for (Re)connection. That sounds official, right?
In some ways, it feels easy. In others, it’s taken us 15 years to get here. Okay—13, if we’re counting from when this tradition began.
We put the kids to bed at 8 p.m. sharp. The house has to be clean—not perfect, but clean enough that neither of us wakes up with anything to do. I told him once, “For you to get my full attention, the dishes need to be done, the floor swept. That’s what I need to mentally let go and be present.”
Some couples relax with wine, some with illicit substances. To each their own, and all things in moderation. Two years ago, my husband and I had something we wanted to try, so we made a whole evening of it. No problem to solve, just curiosity and intention. A little experimentation can go a long way. And that was the night our new ritual for (re)connection was born.
Since then, it’s been a little different every time. I like to buy myself lingerie. We both appreciate fresh sheets. A clean duvet. I bought him a candle from a store he loved when we lived in Amsterdam. And a shared playlist, full of songs we’ve collected in the weeks leading up to our night in—romantic favorites, weird finds, and tracks that spark stories tangled together where one of us shouts out, “This made me think of you!” We try to have our night in every few months.
These nights often stretch for four or five hours. We talk, we touch, we get high, or we drink, we laugh. I used to think we’d run out of things to talk about. But we haven’t. Somehow, after all this time, we’re still learning new things about each other. When I wondered aloud how live TV feeds are shot, he casually explained and then said, “I once worked in the media room for a political campaign.” I blinked. “How did I not know that about you?”
Sometimes the questions are more philosophical. One of our favorite questions on first dates is, “Tell me something you believe that most people don’t.” And on Saturday night, I realized I didn’t know if his answer to that question was still the same.
But often, it’s in these nights that we also talk about the more vulnerable things, including our other dates. Right now, we’re both only casually dating, but in the past, this is when we talked about the things that either of us sometimes finds hard to hear. When we’re lying in bed, Yin-Yang style, bodies tangled, touch softens the sting.
Maybe This Started Sooner Than We Thought
Sometimes I think this ritual is new. But maybe we’ve been doing a version of it since we opened our relationship fifteen years ago.
I don’t remember the exact details of the first time I told him I kissed someone else. Or the first time he told me about a date with another woman. Maybe we were sitting on his couch, or mine. Maybe we had cups of tea or beers in our hands. I don’t know if we were touching, but I imagine we must have been.
Over the years, I picture our tough conversations happening on different couches: the army-grade khaki one in Amsterdam, the bottle-green one from our first Seattle apartment, the beige one in San Francisco, the blue one, the grey ones here in England. With wine. Or cocktails. Or coffee. Most often with tea and beer.
We didn’t call those moments “rituals,” but in hindsight, they were. We sat across from each other on the couch to reconnect whenever we felt disconnected.
Rituals from Other Relationships
When I asked my community on Instagram about their rituals for connection and reconnection, the responses were beautiful! And varied.
One couple takes a specific walk along the beach every time they need to talk. If the conversation runs long, they just walk farther. A few couples shared with me about the rituals they have outdoors, disconnected from their phones, knowing that at the end of the conversation, they will go home together. Sometimes to make love. Sometimes, just to be close again.
Another couple has hard conversations in an empty bathtub. That image stuck with me. Two people in a small, contained space without water.
Many said their shared bed has too much emotional history. Too many arguments, associations. They need neutral ground. For us, our bed has always been a sanctuary, but I understand their need for something different.
I found myself feeling a little envious of certain rituals. I wish my husband gave foot rubs—he doesn’t, not readily. I wish we could cook together, but neither of us makes a very good sous-chef.
It’s easy to romanticize other couples’ rituals—hand-holding, breakfast, and tantric eye contact. But I remind myself that their thing doesn’t have to be our thing. And ours definitely isn’t for everyone.
So, what are the key ingredients for a ritual to reconnect?
Intention, first and foremost. A ritual doesn’t have to be fancy, but it does have to be on purpose.
Something to look forward to helps, too. Anticipation is underrated.
And then: time. Not five rushed minutes. Enough time to slow down, get a little vulnerable, and actually hear each other.
A safe space matters—whether that’s a candlelit bedroom, a beach walk, or an empty bathtub.
And you have to disconnect from everything else: phones, logistics, the endless to-do list.
Everything else? That’s just personal preference.
The core is making it feel right for the two of you. And choosing to come back, even when it’s not easy.
💬 Your Turn:
Do you and your partner have a ritual—planned or accidental—that brings you back to one another? I’d love to hear it in the comments. You can also read more from the community in my saved story on Instagram here.