Eight years together. Same bed, same life, but Maya felt like she was living with a roommate she used to love. The loneliest she'd ever been was right next to someone. Lound helped her find words for what was missing before she could share them.
Maya is 35, married for eight years. From the outside, everything looks fine. Nice house. Stable jobs. They don't fight. They don't have obvious problems. They just... don't connect. Conversations stay at the surface. Evenings are spent in the same room, looking at different screens. They're efficient cohabitants, not intimate partners.
She's tried bringing it up, but it's hard to articulate. "I feel lonely" sounds accusatory. "We don't talk anymore" gets met with "We're talking right now." The problem isn't dramatic enough to point to. It's a slow drift, not a crisis.
The hardest part: she can't talk to him about feeling like she can't talk to him. So she started talking to Lound instead, trying to figure out what she even needed before asking for it.
"We had dinner together tonight. Both on our phones. I looked up at one point and realized we hadn't said anything in twenty minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... nothing. We've become really good at being alone together. I don't know when that started being the default."
"Tried to tell him I felt disconnected. He asked 'from what?' and I couldn't explain. From him. From us. From the version of us that used to talk until 2am about everything. That version feels like a different couple. We're the sequel nobody asked for."
"What do I actually want? I think... to be curious about each other again. To share the random thoughts. To know what's actually going on in his head, not just the logistics. When did we stop asking each other interesting questions?"
You've been tracking what you talk about with your partner. Here's what I notice:
You're not lacking time together. You're lacking depth. The machinery of life has replaced the intimacy of knowing each other.
But how do I bring up wanting more connection without it being an attack?
Instead of talking about what's wrong, try creating what's missing. Ask an interesting question at dinner. Share something you've been thinking about. Don't diagnose the relationship. Just start acting like the connected version of you.
What if he doesn't engage?
Then you have more information. But right now, you're not giving him the chance. You've both defaulted to efficiency. Someone has to make the first move back to curiosity. Might as well be you.
"Asked him an actual question at dinner tonight. Not 'how was work' but 'what's something you've been thinking about that you haven't told anyone?' He looked confused at first. Then he actually answered. We talked for an hour. Real talk. The kind we used to have."
"At the end he said 'we should do this more often.' And I realized: he missed this too. He just didn't know how to start either. We'd both been waiting for the other person to break the pattern."
This month you initiated 7 "real conversations." 6 of them led to genuine connection. The loneliness metric you've been tracking is down significantly. The relationship isn't fixed, but it's different. More alive. Someone just had to start.
"We're not the couple we were eight years ago. We're not supposed to be. But we can be a couple who still knows each other. Who stays curious. Who doesn't let efficiency replace intimacy. I had to get clear on what I wanted before I could invite him into it. Lound was where I figured that out."
Connection isn't something that stays on autopilot. It needs intention.
He missed the connection too. Neither knew how to restart it. Someone just had to go first.
Instead of diagnosing what was wrong, she created what was missing. An interesting question opened a door that criticism would have closed.
She couldn't ask for connection until she understood what that meant to her. Lound was where she got clear.
Maya and her husband have a "real talk" ritual now. Once a week, phones away, one interesting question each. It's not magic. It's maintenance. The loneliness still creeps in sometimes, especially during busy weeks. But now they know how to find each other again. The distance isn't destiny. It's just a signal to reconnect.
If you're sharing a life but not sharing yourself, start by getting clear on what you actually need. Lound can help you find the words before you bring them to the conversation.