The Dragon and the Tower

Picture a knight on a white horse, sword raised high, riding off into the night. In his mind there is only one thing: the dragon. He is going to defeat it, and he is going to do it for her.

Now picture the woman in the tower. She is not thinking about dragons at all. She is leaning on the windowsill, watching the road, hoping he will come back and simply be with her. In her mind is a much quieter picture. Him beside her. His arms around her. Time together that is not about anything except the two of them.

Both of them are thinking about love. They are just picturing completely different things.

I shared this image with a couple recently, and I watched something soften in the room. They both recognised themselves straight away. So often, the hardest moments in a marriage are not about a lack of love at all. They are about two people loving each other in different languages, and each one quietly wondering why the other has stopped listening.

Waiting in the tower

Many women carry a deep longing to feel loved, safe, protected and emotionally close to their husbands. Not just provided for. Known.

She sees everything he does. She notices the long hours, the bills paid, the games with the children, the dishes he helps with after a tiring day. She is grateful, truly. But gratitude and closeness are not the same thing, and all that doing does not quite reach the place in her that is longing to be held.

The tricky part is that this need is not always said plainly. It is hard to say "I miss you" to someone who is standing right in front of you. So it comes out sideways. "I don't believe you love me." "You're not invested in this marriage." "I don't feel safe with you."

What she usually means underneath is much softer: I want you. I miss us. Please come and sit with me.

Off slaying dragons

Many men are wired to love by doing. Providing, protecting, fixing, carrying. For him, going to work every day, coming home to play with the children and then helping with the house is not a list of chores. It is love. It is his way of saying, I will look after you. You are safe with me.

So when he rides home after slaying the biggest dragon he has ever faced, and she tells him she feels unloved, it lands like a blow. He hears: Everything you have done is worth nothing. He feels unseen, unappreciated and, most of all, disrespected.

And so he does the only thing that makes sense to him. He goes looking for a bigger dragon. He works harder, does more, gives more, hoping that this time she will finally see it.

She does see it. That was never the problem. What she was waiting for was him.

Two different currencies

I often describe it like this. For many men, the currency of love is respect. For many women, the currency of love is connection and emotional safety.

When we spend our love in our own currency, we are giving something real. But if our spouse cannot spend it, it does not feel like wealth to them. He keeps paying in effort and provision. She keeps paying in longing and reaching out. Both are generous. Both end up feeling poor.

Scripture names this beautifully:

Paul does not ask husbands to respect and wives to love because the other matters less. He speaks straight to what each heart is most hungry for. Love her in a way she can feel. Respect him in a way he can hear.

And here is where it so often breaks down. When she says "you don't love me", he hears disrespect and pulls away. When he pulls away, she feels even less safe and reaches harder. Round and round it goes, two good people misreading each other at the very point where they most need to be understood.

Where our calling meets

What moves me most about this pattern is that it is not a flaw in how God made us. It is the very place our calling shows up.

A man's instinct to protect and provide is a gift. A woman's instinct to nurture and draw close is a gift. These are not small things. They are part of how God designed husbands and wives to reflect His love to each other and to the world.

But gifts can collide. The protector can become so busy guarding the castle that he forgets to come inside. The nurturer can ache so deeply for closeness that her longing comes out as accusation. We can lose each other right at the intersection of who we were made to be.

The answer is not for him to stop slaying dragons, or for her to stop longing for him. It is for both of them to understand what the other is really saying, and to learn to love in a way the other can receive.

Meeting at the bottom of the tower

If you recognise yourselves in this story, here are a few gentle places to begin.

For husbands

• Put the sword down for a while. Some evenings, the bravest thing you can do is sit beside her with nothing to fix. Ask, "How are you really doing?" and then just listen.
• Hear the longing under the words. When she says "you don't love me", try hearing "I miss you." It changes everything about how you respond.
• Let her into your heart, not only your effort. Tell her what you are carrying. Your inner world is a gift she has been waiting for.

For wives

• Name what you need, plainly and kindly. Instead of "you're not invested in this marriage", try "I miss you. Could we have some time together tonight, just us?" He can answer a request far more easily than an accusation.
• Honour the dragons. Tell him, specifically, what you see him doing. "Thank you for working so hard for us" can open his heart in a way nothing else does.
• Notice his way of loving. His doing is not instead of loving you. Very often, it is how he is loving you.

For both of you

• Make a little space that is only for the two of you. Fifteen minutes in the evening, a walk, a coffee. No logistics allowed. Just two people turning toward each other.
• When it goes wrong, ask before you assume. "What did you mean by that?" is one of the most healing questions in marriage.

A closing word

The knight and the woman in the tower love each other. That was never in question. What they needed was to understand what love looked like through the other's eyes.

The same is true for so many of us. Most tension in marriage is not a lack of love. It is a lack of understanding. And understanding can be learned.

So come down from the tower, and come in from the battlefield. Meet each other somewhere in the middle, where the dragons can wait for an evening and the two of you can simply be together.

If this story feels a little too familiar, you do not have to work it out alone. Our Connection Points profile helps couples see how they are each wired, and gives you language for the things you have felt but never quite known how to say. Discover Connection Points

With love,
Robynne