For their 10th wedding anniversary, Dave wanted to do something special.
“I booked us a retreat,” he told Sarah proudly. “Secluded, peaceful, very romantic.”
Sarah packed her swimsuits and novels, picturing a beach resort with fruity drinks and couple’s massages.
They arrived to… silence.
Like, not “peaceful ambiance” silence—strict no-talking, no-phones, no-eye-contact silence.
The sign read:
“Welcome to Whispering Pines – Silent Meditation Retreat.”
Sarah blinked at it. Then at Dave.
“I thought you said ‘resort.’”
“I did,” Dave whispered. “It said ‘restorative spiritual resort experience.’ I skimmed.”
For the next three days, they communicated via interpretive eyebrow raises, passive-aggressive note passing, and highly expressive eye rolls.
At dinner, Sarah tried to mime that the soup was cold. Dave interpreted it as “I love you,” and nearly cried.
On Day 2, they were accidentally caught whispering about missing pizza. A staff member appeared out of nowhere, handed them each a stone engraved with “LET GO,” and disappeared like a monk-ninja.
By Day 3, Dave was meditating under a tree, trying to mentally order tacos. Sarah had written “This is the opposite of romance” in her journal 47 times.
When they finally got home, Dave looked at Sarah and said, “So… next year, maybe an all-inclusive?”
Sarah stared at him for a long moment and replied,
“With unlimited talking.”
They haven’t gone on a silent retreat since.
