The Language of Love

Bob and I recently celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary. This got me thinking about “the language of love”. When I think of those words, I envision nonverbal communication. A loved one's gentle touch, a cunning look, a knowing smile across the room all conjure images of what should be intended by this sweet phrase.

But after all of these years I know it is more, oh so much more. For example, when I say, “Honey, we need to talk.” his whole countenance changes. He immediately goes on the defensive. I swear I’ve even seen his head spin round a few times. I finally (after years) figured out that what he was hearing was, “Honey, I’m about to gripe.” So even if I am about to tell him that cat is sick or the yard looks nice, he won’t hear it because he is ready for me to lower the boom. I try to avoid these words now, as they just don’t work.

That look across the room, if it is a frown the other will question, “Why do you look like that.” The pat answer is “This is the only face I have.” Something is amiss when “looking” wrong is questioned. I’m 50 years old, maybe it wasn’t Bob, maybe I was focused on something else. Still I have to be careful of the kind of looks and sighs I toss about as feelings could get hurt or an argument could ensue. Maybe we just needed to talk, but ooooh, can’t say that.

Another favorite is, “What are you about to do?” This said by me, obviously means, “I don’t know what you are about to do, but I know it will be wrong.” But no, really, I was just wondering.

So, all of that said, in this our 25th year, I have to say that the language of love is all Greek to me.