Liz Augustine, 9 Jan 2005
A few days ago, my friend Tony described a visit from his new boyfriend, Richard. At the end of the visit, Tony had not returned to his house from a long errand, and Richard, concerned that he’d miss his flight, had gone to his cousin’s house to get a ride. Tony and Richard discussed the plans over the phone, so Tony wasn’t surprised when he came home to an empty house. Still, he seemed hurt and confused that Richard hadn’t left a little love note. Did that mean that Richard had a bad time? That something had gone wrong during a visit that Tony described as pleasant and fun? That Richard never wanted to see Tony again? Or possibly that Richard and Tony had grown up speaking different dialects of the language of love?
What is the language of love? It’s those little gestures that we make to let people know we love them. And without thinking about it too hard, we come to expect those same gestures in return. When our other doesn’t reciprocate, we’re disappointed, confused, and feel unloved. “Unloved” is one of the scariest emotions in the world. It often leads to striking out in anger. We also mask it by becoming defensive, or worse, sarcastic (in other words, passive-aggressive, or, as a friend calls it, passhole agresshole).
Phew. Isn’t love supposed to be simple and easy? Boy meets girl (or boy meets boy, or girl meets girl), they fall in love, and live happily ever after, sharing good food, witticisms, and a warm bed for the rest of their lives. Yes? No! Usually the meeting and the falling in love parts go well, but the staying in love part, well, that gets a little rockier. How do things get derailed so easily?
Consider these examples:
Andy and Chris
Andy grows up in a household where his parents hug each other and their children. They kiss each other after just a few hours of separation, and always kiss each other goodnight. The house where Chris grows up is loving, but little affection, especially between the adults, is displayed in public. Chris’ parents seem fond of each other, and share a bedroom, but never hug or kiss each other in front of the children.
When Andy and Chris grow up, they meet, fall in love, and then… Andy is physically affectionate with Chris – he wants to hug Chris all the time. Chris wants physical space – a lot of it. Chris loves Andy, but doesn’t see the point of all that physical affection. The more Chris withdraws, the more Andy pursues. Before they know it, they’re both disappointed – they’re showing love the way they know how to and the other person is not sending back the same signal. In fact, the other person is sending back a very different signal. Life together becomes a struggle, an irritating and frustrating one.
Linda and Jean
As a child, Linda watches her father take care of her mother. She knows her mother is competent and strong, yet her father shows his love and affection by taking care of things, by doing. Jean’s parents have a very different relationship. Jean’s father recognizes that her mom is independent and perfectly capable of doing things for herself, so he stands back. Jean’s mom takes care of many of the household duties that Linda’s father always did. Jean’s dad contributes to the household in other ways, and is supportive and available to help when asked.
When Jean and Linda fall in love, Linda sits back and waits for Jean to take over many of the household duties. Jean knows that Linda is quite capable and waits for Linda to identify what she will take on and ask for help when she needs it. For a while, little gets done. Then the two explode at each other in frustration.
There are so many other examples – one person learns to express love by buying frequent small presents for their partner, while the partner learns to send the same message by initiating several phone calls a day. (And the first person thinks, “Can’t they leave me alone? I’ll be seeing them in a few hours.” The second person thinks, “What’s with all this little stuff – don’t we have enough things?”) Or one partner thinks it’s a sign of intimacy to eat from each others’ plates in restaurants, while the other feels disgusted by that habit and will grudgingly place a small sharing portion on a salad plate.
The common thread
What do these stories all have in common? In each case, a person grew up learning to speak the language of love – they learned how to express love for another being – and decided that there must be just one universal language. The person busily sends their loving message, and hopes that their partner will talk to them in the same language. The hope turns into a longing and a hunger.
So when a partner makes a loving gesture in a different dialect, the intent gets missed. Sometimes we don’t even notice it. Sometimes, sadly, we’re even irritated by another’s expressions. Our longing questions are answered, but we don’t even realize it because we’re so busy looking for an answer we recognize.
So how do we avoid this dilemma?
One way is to become aware that we don’t all speak the same dialect of this loving language. So we can simply look for indications that another person might be sending a love-signal in a dialect we don’t recognize. In other words, trust the intentions. Assume goodness unless you get clear signals otherwise.
Another way is to talk about it with each other early in your relationship. How did you each come to feel loved? How was love shown early in your life? What examples of lovingkindness are you aware of today?
And finally, if you feel unloved, just say something, even as simple as “I’m feeling unloved – should I?” It’s surprising what an ice breaker that question can be, and it’s gratifying to discover the fruitful conversations it can lead to.
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