In any relationship, compromise is important. In a loving relationship it’s critical.

Jen’s been unhappy for quite sometime. It’s a combination of factors including her health, the lack of permanent employment, the death of friends and pets, a lack of close friends nearby, the recent difficulties in parenting the kids, and myriad other factors. To grossly oversimplify things she needs a vacation.

Well we both do. But right now taking the four kids on a vacation would sort of defeat the purpose, and finding a place for them for even a few days would be difficult and prohibitively expensive.

So last week when Jen said she wanted to get back to Miami Springs for a couple of days to attend a massive pseudo-reunion for our high school, I suggested she go without me. She fought me on it for a few hours, but there were a couple of factors that she couldn’t ignore.

First, she had fun in high school; I didn’t. She was pretty, popular, happy, etc., etc, while I was odd, outcast and depressed. So it might be fun for her, but didn’t promise to be all that enjoyable for me. Second, her family still lives in South Florida, mine doesn’t.

But third, and the hardest for me, is that frankly, Jen need to get a way from me as well. She’s not happy here anymore. She speaks wistfully about her past life and uncomplicated romances she’s left behind. And when she speaks of her life now, and of us, she just seems worn down and trapped.

But even after all the talking she still wasn’t going to go. Her reason? That it wasn’t fair to me. She decided I needed a vacation as well. And she said that she wouldn’t go if I didn’t pick something comparable.

But frankly the idea of a vacation alone sounds miserable to me. I have no friends nearby that I could visit for a few days, and I couldn’t afford a trip to see the far-away friends. So after a day’s thought I proposed a solution. Instead of a week, or even weekend vacation, I found a way to take a series of several tiny vacations—not much more than an hour a pop.

I’m going to take $100 and join the archery club at a local outdoor store. At it’s core, what this means is that for one year I will have unlimited access to the indoor archery range.

About twenty years ago I was big into archery. 20-30 hours of shooting each week. It wasn’t so much that I found it relaxing; instead the need to focus on every minute detail in order to get a consistent shot occupied my mind in such a way that I was able to shut out, for a few hours, all the bad stuff going on in my life at the time.

She still doesn’t think it’s a fair trade-off, but my subconscious is already running through the equipment I still have, and trying to remember the routine I had for each shot. My mind is already planning how I’ll get my back and arm muscles back into shape, and wondering how long it will take until I’m in good form again.

I don’t know if all this is a good idea. For someone who waxes poetic about their former life, it’s a bit of a gamble to have them go back and revisit it. But it seems every relationship I’ve ever known has one of those if-you-love-someone-set-them-free moments. And ultimately it comes down to which I will allow to win—my own insecurities, or my trust in her. I just hope she finds what she needs to find.