My husband, Sal, and I put date nights on the calendar once a

In the words of Sherri Shepherd, “My husband, Sal, and I put date nights on the calendar once a week. I know that doesn’t sound romantic, but otherwise it won’t get done.” At first, these words may sound ordinary, even practical, but within them lies an ancient wisdom: that love is not sustained by chance, but by discipline; not preserved by mere longing, but by the deliberate tending of the bond. For though passion may ignite a union, only commitment keeps the flame alive. To mark love upon the calendar is to treat it as sacred, as unmovable, as worthy of time amidst the rush of worldly duties.

The ancients knew that all sacred things require ritual. The farmers of old did not merely hope for harvest; they rose each day at dawn to tend the soil. The priests of forgotten temples did not wait for inspiration to descend; they lit the fires and sang the hymns at appointed hours. So too must love be treated as ritual, a discipline that honors the beloved not with passing whims, but with consistency. In Sherri Shepherd’s words, the date night becomes not a trivial appointment, but a ceremony of togetherness, set apart from the noise of life.

Consider the story of Odysseus and Penelope. Though separated for twenty years by war and wandering, their bond was kept alive not only by longing but by discipline. Penelope wove each day at her loom, her threads a ritual of fidelity, her nights a watch of patience. Odysseus, though tempted by storms and sirens, carried in his heart the memory of his wife and home. Their love was not sustained by chance, but by deliberate acts that guarded their bond until reunion. What Penelope wove in Ithaca, Shepherd now weaves upon the calendar—the ritual of remembrance.

Many in our age think of romance only as spontaneity: sudden flowers, unexpected trips, gestures that surprise. These things are sweet, but fleeting if not anchored in constancy. For life is filled with duties—children, work, burdens of the day—and without intention, even the strongest bonds may fray. Shepherd reminds us that to plan for love does not diminish it; rather, it strengthens it. Just as warriors sharpen their blades before battle, so must couples sharpen their bond before the trials of daily living.

The husband and wife who carve out time for each other declare, “This union is sacred. It will not be forgotten amidst the clamor.” Such discipline may not sound “romantic,” but it is, in truth, the deepest romance—to choose, week after week, to set aside the world for the beloved. For passion without constancy burns quickly, but constancy feeds passion like wood feeds a fire, keeping it alive for many years.

Thus, the lesson is clear: love requires both heart and habit. To sustain joy in union, one must plan as well as dream. Place love upon the calendar, make space for togetherness, and honor that space as though it were holy ground. This is not weakness, but wisdom; not duty without love, but duty infused with love.

And what should you do? Begin with small rituals. Choose a day each week, each month, or each season, and set it aside for the one you love. Protect it fiercely, as you would guard a treasure. In that time, let the world fall away, and let your presence be gift enough. For the ancients teach us, and Shepherd reminds us, that romance is not only in the grand gesture, but in the steady hand that holds, the steady heart that remembers, and the steady will that chooses love again and again.