Madam Keeps the Relationship Moving and Sir Has Settled In for the Ride

A relationship is supposed to be a little like riding a tandem bicycle: two people on the same bicycle, heading in roughly the same direction, with both of them expected to contribute something besides excellent company.

At first, that is more or less what happens. You both pedal, the bicycle moves, and nobody appears to be carrying anybody. Then, somewhere along the promenade, Sir discovers that he can secretly ease off a little. Hmm.

Not enough to send anybody into a hedge, goodness no. We are still looking far too chic for that. He simply stops making plans quite as often, becomes a little less affectionate, leaves more of the conversation to you or quietly lets you become the person who keeps everything moving.

And because you like him, you barely hesitate. You suggest dinner, send the affectionate message, bring a little warmth back into whatever has gone flat and pedal just hard enough to make up the difference.

The bicycle keeps moving beautifully.

Well, marvelous.

Madam Barely Notices the Extra Work

At first, it hardly seems worth mentioning. Nothing wobbles, nobody ends up in a hedge, and from the outside the two of you still look lovely, gliding along a European promenade with the sea on one side and pale buildings on the other.

Sir may even look particularly happy, which makes perfect sense when the weather is beautiful, the bicycle is moving and Madam has unexpectedly developed the legs of a woman crossing Provence before lunch.

So when he eases off again, you compensate again. It feels easier than letting the bicycle slow down long enough for both of you to notice why. And this is where a tiny imbalance can become a very comfortable arrangement—for Sir, naturally.

If he does not suggest seeing you, you find something charming to do together. If he grows distant, you become warmer. If the conversation loses energy, you bring enough for both of you and carry on as though this is simply what excellent cyclists do.

Before long, you know exactly how much extra effort is required whenever Sir decides to enjoy the scenery.

Sir Has Discovered a Lovely Way to Travel

By now the promenade is looking positively delightful. There is a wicker basket on the front, perhaps with a little baguette sticking out because we have standards. The bell gives a cheerful little ring, the sea sparkles, and somewhere nearby somebody is having an espresso.

Madam is pedaling furiously—and, by now, doing most of the relationship work too.

Sir, meanwhile, is almost luxuriously relaxed, with plenty of time to admire the sea.

And goodness, why would he interrupt such a pleasant afternoon? By now he has become very comfortable with the pace of the journey, which is easy enough when somebody else keeps finding the energy.

Then a hill appears.

Now this should be interesting.

Sir gives the pedals a thoughtful little push, seems to consider the incline, and somehow returns his attention to the view while Madam leans forward and gets on with it.

Up we go.

By the time they reach the top, Sir may even remark on what a beautiful ride this has been.

How nice for him.

The Bicycle Is Moving, but Look Who Is Pedaling

By this stage, the relationship can still look perfectly healthy from a distance. You are seeing each other, messages continue, plans appear, and nobody has abandoned the bicycle beside a fountain and wandered off.

But once you look at the whole journey, something rather obvious comes into view: you are generating most of the movement. And the better you become at keeping everything going, the easier it is for Sir to imagine this is simply how the bicycle works.

If it had stopped the first few times he stopped pedaling, he might have looked down and wondered what happened. But you never gave it the chance.

He may still care about you very much. That is not really the joke. He may simply have become accustomed to a relationship where you quietly fill every gap before he ever has to notice there was one.

And once you see that, the whole picture becomes wonderfully absurd. Madam is pedaling along the promenade with determination, keeping the basket steady, giving the bell an occasional cheerful ring and somehow making the journey look almost effortless.

The bicycle is still moving, naturally.

Somewhere along the promenade, Sir stopped being her cycling partner and became a very comfortable passenger, while Madam kept the bicycle going for both of them.

Sir, naturally, was having a lovely time.