"We're digital. How are we making this work?" I asked Joel today at lunch. We were eating in the cafe where we had our first date. Same meal, same drink. Paninis and iced coffees. "We know when to turn off," he replied. And I believe he's right. Digital love needn't be superficial. Digital love does need to know when to unplug. The rules are straightforward: sex life stays offline, family time is digi-free, and, if the meaning can't be made clear over the digital medium, follow up in person.

In "Love Virtually," Virginia Heffernan says that "By removing the body from relationships, electronic communication makes romantic love less animal. The lovers’ discourse becomes simultaneously more childlike and more intellectual, more spiritual." It also allows us to perceive it as more full of possibility. The key is making sure that notion of possibility is tethered to reality. Add body, stir.

When we play out so much of our lives online how do we ensure we're carving out time for our partner (whether or not we met them online)? Simple. We prioritize. We decide that we're going to put our partner first sometimes. We err on the side of overcommunication with one another. We view the relationship as a startup and believe in iterations. We know we're not going to get it all right the first time we try it.

The accusation has been made that we're turning into a nation of narcissistic tweeters. The truth is this. We're not more self-absorbed, we simply have stages that are more public than before. Maybe it keeps us honest. Maybe it allows us to see just how similar we are to one another. Maybe it gives us insights into ourselves when something we put out there gets a reaction that is much different than what we expected.

Joel and I are young and we're digital. We take our plugged in-ness less seriously than these columnists I love reading at the NYT and Time. We don't ask how we're going to strengthen this "institution of marriage" we're in. Instead, we're doing the very best we can to keep up with the breakneck pace at which new technologies are created and released. We're synthesizers and builders. Our peers, in similar situations, aren't mourning the loss of the "institution." Like a code base that needs constant attention, we're reworking it.

Also, we're laughing at ourselves. Joel and I had a hashtag for our live-streamed wedding - it made sense because we met on Twitter. We didn't sit down and plan it out (we were too busy, you know, planning a wedding). It occurred spontaneously. It's fresh, offbeat and somehow solid. As solid as anything can be in this transient world. Unlike these heavy articles forecasting doom for the futures of people like us. Sadly, these articles don't make you wonder how you can make it work, they remind (and keep fresh for you) all those very public relationships currently going up in flames. It's time to refocus our attention on what works.

Before you deboard your plane the flight attendant reminds you you, "have a choice in who you fly with." If you see your partner as the choice you make each day, it stays fresh. You have to stay present. One reason I use Twitter is that I love the present momentness of it. I see what's happening for people in real-time. I notice what's arising each moment inside of me. It is not unlike Vipassana practice. I don't scroll back through old tweets anymore than I dig through old love emails exchanged between Joel and I when we started dating. To keep it fresh we have to keep our minds fixed firmly on what's happening now. And now and now.

In the same way I practice so I can die with discernment, I practice living with discernment. And loving in the same way. Discernment doesn't concern itself with the medium. Awareness can be brought to all aspects of the practice of living. The qualities of creating long-lasting love haven't changed an iota over the centuries.

To those of you who have made it to the twilight years together, let's hear more of this:

"You don't really think about getting older. First of all, you're aging together and when you see a person constantly you don't notice big changes. You don't notice, oh, you are getting a little wrinkle here and tomorrow you say it's a little deeper. Those are things that just happen. You don't pay attention to those things. I mean, I am not thinking everyday, oh my husband is 83 years old and my goodness I am married to an old man! And I hope he feels that way too." Angie Terranova for Time