My husband plans every date as a surprise, then says my questions ruin the romance

My husband loves surprises. I love knowing what shoes to wear.

For most of our relationship, he has planned dates by telling me only a time and a dress code. Sometimes this is genuinely delightful. He once took me to a tiny theater I had mentioned months earlier. Another time, we drove to a lookout with dinner packed in the car.

The problem is that every plan now has to remain secret to count as romantic.

Last Friday, he told me to be ready at six in “something nice.” I asked whether we would be outside because the temperature was dropping. He smiled and said, ‘Stop investigating.’

I wore a dress and low heels. The surprise was a food festival spread across a muddy field.

After an hour, my feet hurt and I was cold. I tried not to complain because he had bought tickets and looked so pleased. When I finally said I wanted to leave, he became quiet. On the drive home, he said I rarely let myself enjoy what he plans.

I said enjoyment would have been easier with boots and a jacket. He said telling me “outdoor festival” would have removed the reveal.

This has happened in other forms. A mystery overnight trip required me to move a work deadline. A surprise tasting menu included several foods I had recently said I was avoiding. Once he invited another couple to what I thought would be an evening alone.

None of these choices is terrible. Together, they make me feel like romance requires surrendering practical information and reacting correctly when it appears.

He says he carries the mental work of planning while I respond with logistics. That is partly true. If he asks what I want to do, I often name constraints before preferences. He experiences that as draining every possibility before it begins.

I suggested a surprise envelope: tell me the duration, setting, physical activity and whether anyone else is coming, then keep the destination secret. He said that sounded like a risk assessment, not a date.

I asked if I could plan the next one. He agreed, but then requested hints all week. When I pointed that out, he said hints build anticipation while my questions communicate distrust.

I do trust his intentions. I do not trust that he notices every detail affecting my body, schedule or social energy. I also dislike that disappointment becomes evidence that I failed to receive his effort properly.

How much information should a surprise date include? Can romance depend on uncertainty when only one person gets to decide which risks and inconveniences count as part of the fun?