Last week, I made the mistake of mentioning to a few friends that I can’t stand the fact that lots of people, mainly women, use the phrase, “I love you” so flippantly.
It makes me sound like a horrible person, doesn’t it? I know. Uck.
I wish I could be one of those flowery, happy, smiley-faced people, who walks around kissing everyone on the cheek, massaging their neck, and boasting about my love for them.
Well … maybe not that extreme.
The truth is I am nothing like this.
I do try to love everyone because that’s what we, as Christians, are supposed to do. Some people are obviously easier to love than others, but I do generally love/like most people.
I just reserve my “I love you”s for when I really feel like they need to be expressed. It’s different, of course, with my husband and children. That’s an everyday thing. Period.
But, when I say, “I love you,” I mean it. It’s not just something to say. It’s real.
My automatic reaction when I hear an acquaintance or a friend I barely know say “I love you” is “No, you don’t.”
Why? I’m not sure.
I think “You don’t love me. You barely know me. And, if you did, you probably wouldn’t.”
But, there are those times when I really need to hear “I love you,” and there are friends and, of course, Beau, who always know when to say it.
Maybe I’m putting way too much emphasis on the phrase.
But, for me, “I love you” is sacred.
It’s not the same kind of love that you are supposed to have for everyone in the world. It’s different. Or is it? Maybe you should walk up to strangers and tell them you love them. I don’t know. Or maybe they’d prefer to see a little more action behind those words. I don’t know.
Geez. Just don’t tell me “I love you” unless you really mean it and don’t expect me to say it. I’ll say it when I know it’s right. There. This discussion is over.