So not too long ago, at the end of a pleasant evening with a
refreshingly normal person I had recently met, my date walked out the door, gave
me a hug and casually blurted out the words “I love you”. My brain stopped
working for about thirty-five seconds before I regained my composure and
solemnly proclaimed: “You’re not supposed to say that.” I closed the door and
resumed my ordinary Sunday night activities (eye cream, Love Island, hash
browns).
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It must have been a
misunderstanding, I thought, a nervous tic, the language barrier, the
Russians. That couldn’t possibly be true! And when I was about to finalise my
diagnosis (it’s Tourette's, I’m sure) my phone screen lit up. “Sorry. Just
something I say to friends when it’s time to say bye, don’t make too much of it.”
It’s not anyone’s fault in particular. I blame it on the
English. Not English people (I’ll let you off on this occasion) but the language.
How is it possible that in the long, complicated history of such a rich language
it never occurred to anyone, not even Shakespeare, to come up with a different
way to say "I love you" for friends and family and dogs and other living beings
that you’re not romantically involved with?
That’s often the case in other European languages. In
Italian, "Ti Voglio Bene" is different from "Ti Amo", which is romantic in nature.
The Spanish would say "Te Quiero" to a friend but save "Te Amo" for their
significant others. Even in German, notoriously NOT the language of love, there’s
options to choose from: “Ich hab’ dich lieb” for family and
close friends and "Ich liebe dich" for
your other half.
But not in English.
Nope. You guys always have to be special. My guess is, the Oxford dictionary
run out of space so you decided you didn’t need a chill way to let some know
that you love ‘em in a non I-want-to-marry-you-and-have-your-babies way. That’s
the only explanation.
And let’s face it,
you want to be really careful who you say "I love you to". If there’s something
worse than being rejected after telling someone you love them, it would be saying "I love you" when you don’t mean it and effectively being rejected by someone you
don’t even love. You know what I mean?
It’s hard, man. But also,
we make it hard. Love is a human instinct. I would say it’s second nature to
us, but even that is not entirely accurate: love is our nature. So how is it that expressing it has become such a big
a deal? Why are people so scared of the L-word? For the lucky ones among us, it’s
mainly about timing, for the others, it’s down to fear of committal and other
underlying issues that their partners should address with a professional. Or a
member of the clergy.
So what is it that
people do in these situations? Luckily, I keep receipts, so let’s crack some
numbers – courtesy of YouGov. A survey from a couple of years ago showed that 16%
of Brits reveal their feelings within the first month of a relationship. The majority of respondents,
however, say "I love you" within two - three months of being together. But let’s
look at some of the numbers that are more relevant to my experience: the
extremes. It appears that 3% of the people interviewed have said the
L-word within a week (I’ve met all of them) while an equal amount of people have never said I love you to their romantic partner – and chances are that you have
met some of these, too.
Yes, maybe you don’t
want to be part of (either) three percent. But if the person you’ve been seeing
for six months feels faint at the mention of the word "love" maybe, just maybe,
you should consider packing your bag, buying a wig and getting a one-way ticket
to Guadalajara, Mexico. And never come back. ‘Cause he or she is guaranteed to
ruin your life with that non-committal bullshit.
But then again, if
you do say "I love you", you’re the crazy, needy one. Verbalising one’s feelings
has become a sin, a sign of weakness, a display of insanity. We are freaked by
the world "love", probably because we don’t understand it. Somewhere between
refreshing our Instagram feed and watering our houseplants, we forgot to google
it.
So let me explain something to you. An admission of love is not what should freak you. In fact, that’s
the easiest part! It’s an instinct, a feeling – you don’t have to work too hard
to feel it, you just do. And sometimes, sadly, it’s just something people say,
and it bears little meaning.
The last time
someone told me "I love you" (in the romantic sense), what I thought they meant
was: “I want to commit to you, your happiness is important to me, I love all of
you, the good and the bad, and I promise to stand by you when the going gets though.”
What they really meant was: “you’re cute, I don’t mind seeing you every day and
the sex’s alright so I don’t mind if I can’t have it off with other people as
long as you stay this idealised person who tends to my needs and doesn’t
complain. And it’s better than being alone anyway.”
But love, friends,
means appreciating someone even in the moments when they can’t be cool and
cute, because life's a bitch and you need to pick them up and help them
navigate the bad times because their happiness is your happiness and they would do
the same, if not more, for you.
The bottom line is,
you do you, boo. Say it, don’t say it, write it on the back of a receipt and
slip it in my rucksack, live-stream it on Instagram, leave me on read. I genuinely
don’t care. But if you want me to know you love me, then sit with me in the hospital lobby next time I get an ulcer,
force your friends to attend my first book launch, help me fill out my tax
return form, buy a present for my mother.‘Till then: talk to the hand.
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