But then, much to his surprise, she started dating another fellow. He told us resolutely, “We’re getting together this afternoon to DTR.”

Our eyes blinked, we glanced at each other and then I asked, “Sooo … what’s a DTR?”

“Define the Relationship,” he responded.

Oh. Good plan.

He returned later that day, dejected. It seems she cherished him “as a friend,” he reported. Meanwhile, this other guy was apparently more her type, and did, in fact, successfully parlay the friendship into eventual romance, a proposal and marriage within a few months.

Apparently, their DTR went much better.

Fortunately, our young friend found another female friend, defined that relationship correctly, and they’re now happily married.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I disagreed on something while shopping. We actually stood there in the store aisle and argued about it. Then we stopped, staring in surprised silence at each other, and I finally said, “Decades of marriage and we can now check ‘Argue in public’ off our bucket list.” Amusement crept into his eyes. He observed, “Maybe it’s time we DTR.” We both laughed out loud, right there in the aisle.

And then we went home to DTR. We asked each other tough questions, respected each other’s opinions and gave honest answers. It turns out we’d kind of drifted, made too many assumptions, took too much for granted and hadn’t paid enough attention. This best DTR session yet reset our compasses. We’ve been more intentionally aligned since.

DTR sessions are not just for marriage settings. Our lives are built on relationships–spouses, kids, grandkids, parents, siblings, neighbors, kids’ teachers, work colleagues, relations, etc.–so we probably DTR more often than we realize. But when we are mindful of the process, when we see it as an earnest, intentional attempt to improve a relationship, it becomes a defining, sometimes painful, always enlightening experience.

DTRs offer hope in a world that seems increasingly disinterested in how we humans are getting along–hope for troubled or confused or angry relationships, hope for long-lost relationships, hope for nearly deceased relationships that seem impossible to resuscitate.

DTRs–which can be messy, awkward, and painful–are another way of saying, “I love you,” as in, “I love you enough to want to improve what we have.”

Occasionally, I DTR with one of my grown kids. Sometimes it’s formal; sometimes I solo it, as in, I’m the only one who knows we’re having a DTR session. A good DTR can help improve a relationship–or get rid of it. If a DTR yields too many negatives, it’s probably time to reconsider the value of that relationship. It may be time to say goodbye.

Or hello. A brother, long estranged, recently reconnected. I was shocked, wary, wondering why. But his reaching out seemed sincere, so we began the dance to define the relationship. It was a long process, kind of messy, but mostly enlightening. We both stayed sincere in our shared desire to reconnect, and that made all the difference. We’re siblings again after a long, uncomfortable, sad-drenched silence–because of a mutual decision to DTR.

We learned (almost too late) that any relationship worth having requires maintenance–and the only thing worse than never having a DTR is losing a relationship because you didn’t.

Thank goodness (and DTRs) for second chances.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.