Bea V. Larsen . . . .Commentaries |
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Bea V. Larsen is a Senior Mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in |
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Speaking of Love This entry was posted on 1/27/2012 9:42 PM and is filed under Generally Speaking. A phone conversation ends in my presence. The final words spoken: I love you.
These three words have become a ubiquitous sign-off, often to a child, but also to a spouse or partner. There must be a generational divide, for such farewells (except possibly when whispered) were rarely heard in my youth, or even in my middle years. And they leave me feeling somewhat disquieted, the same unease I experience with every passing: Have a good day. Inwardly, I chastise myself for my cynicism and also wonder at my own awkwardness when my response is expected to these parting words from a dear friend. I usually smile but remain silent. I was married for so many years to a man who rarely said, but did write those words from time to time, and admittedly I saved the letters and the cards that came with the anniversary flowers. But not being told by my spouse that he loved me rarely gave me much pause, for love was conveyed by both of us in so many wordless ways. The absence of the spoken phrase was not of much import. But as a sensitive relationship topic, it is pervasive. Witness the number of stand-up comedians and television sit-coms that deal with the apparent inability, or great difficulty, of males to put those three words together in consecutive order when talking with a loved one face-to-face. Some years ago, I made note of a remark by the stellar actor and playwright, Wallace Shawn. He said: The difficulty of saying I love you is that it presupposes that you know who "I" is and that you know who "you" is. A thought provoking comment. Does saying the words I love you make you feel a little crazy if just hours later you find yourself greatly annoyed because once again your spouse has failed to meet you on time, or if moments after you speak the words to a child, you display what seems like irrational anger at a disrespectful remark? What if these words of endearment spoken in the morning, are followed by your partner bringing a friend home for the evening without advance consultation, and you have neither the energy nor the inclination to be entertaining. The scenarios are infinite. Who "I" am keeps shifting and who "he" or "she" is does as well. Which is the real "you"? Which are the true feelings? Is it safer to avoid the verbal commitment and not later have to meet ambivalence head on? If the words are spoken too often, do they lose their meaning? Or do they serve as an important reminder, especially in the bad times? Does saying those words come more easily to those of different heritage? Do the French, do the Italians, speak more freely of their love, and if so, does that mean they are indeed more sincerely loving, or less? A world of questions. I can only conclude that for some the words bring discomfort and for others great pleasure and reassurance. And for many they may have lost all special meaning and become as proforma as simply saying "good-bye". By me, the words are rarely spoken, though sometimes written, and then meant most sincerely. I, after all, was married to a man named Larsen, whose ancestors came from a northern land of short days and long winter nights. I fondly recall the day he turned to me with a wry smile and asked if I'd heard the one about the Norwegian farmer who loved his wife so much, he almost told her. CommentsDisplay comments as (Linear | Threaded)
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