Social whirl is exhausting

I always wanted a busier social life, but now I am missing out on quality time with my husband.

I miss my husband. I miss doing nothing with my husband, and only my husband. I miss knowing that a full day stretches ahead for the two of us, with not a single prior commitment to navigate around.

Somehow - and overnight, it seems – our once defunct social life has developed into a fully grown entity that has taken over our lives, dictating our every move. And whereas this was once all we wanted, all we fantasised about and worked towards, I'm beginning to have some apprehensions.

It doesn't help, of course, that there's a maddening, high-pitched, slightly nasal voice inside my head taunting me these days. "You asked for this," it jeers.

I hate that voice; I hate admitting it's right. I hate knowing that all the fun activities and events and social dates colouring our lives at the moment are a source of complaint for me, considering how eager we once were to get off the couch and put an end to our daily movie nights. When we first met, our jobs were not as demanding as they have recently become. And for someone like me, who met the guy she would end up marrying on her second day in a new country where she knew no one, there were no friends to compete for my time - there was only Mr T.

For the first year of our marriage, we made some noise about how we really should have some friends over and maybe make an effort to show up to events when we're invited. It was really just perfunctory though; we were having too much fun together.

But soon enough, we craved some sort of a social life. We so badly wanted another couple to join us on our movie nights, to try out new restaurants with, to plan weekend getaways together.

Our active social life kicked off around the same time our jobs became 100 per cent more demanding. My job, in particular, meant that I was a lot more aware of all the events taking place around the country, whether concerts, exhibitions, lectures, or just the opening of a great new restaurant at a new hotel. There was a lot to do, too many places to be, and quite a few new friends to do it all with.

And before I knew it, a week had passed without my spending a single minute of quality time alone with Mr T. I would rush out of work to pick him up and speed off to our next appointment, then make it back home with barely enough energy to brush our teeth before collapsing into bed. Our weekends are now spent flitting from brunch to lunch to errands to dinners. By the time the working week starts again, we are exhausted.

There is a saying in Arabic: "You either shoot the person or break his head," to signify that there is no middle ground. It's all or nothing: we are either extensions of our couch, or so active that we can't remember said couch's colour.

I had no idea having fun was so exhausting. And I had no idea that it would make me miss my husband so.