When I was a teenager, I found a book lying around called The 5 Languages of Love
. I never read the book, but I did read the back cover, and the basic premise is that people show and interpret love in different ways. For some love means taking out the trash on a rainy night, to others it's a squeeze of the hand before heading in to a scary interview, and still others just like to hear the words uttered every once in a while.
I get this. I think most people get this. But what the book then goes on to say (again, I'm assuming this, seeing as I have never read it), is that love fluency doesn't necessarily intersect, and devotion can get lost in translation. So Jack might be trying to tell Jill he loves her by giving her something sparkly, but doesn't mean the message hits home. Maybe what she needs to reaffirm his affection is just a back rub at the end of a long day.
I have deduced that I am mono-lingual in the love-language of food. When I want to tell you I like you, it's more likely than not that I'll whip up a massive batch of cookies (just ask Dr. P). If I'm sorry for something I've done wrong I'll drop off a loaf of bread. And if I just want to say "Hey! Isn't it great that we have each other?!" I'll pick up a treat to share.
|I cupcake you!!|
|You maki me happy!!|
|I can't get you out of my noodle!|
|Perhaps I'm milking this pun thing too much...|
|ha HA! I threw that last pic in to SHAKE things up!|
|Because that's the other thing about love, it throws you curve balls, and weirdos (see above), but if you're on the same wavelength, you get it.|