Love. Love. Love.
How do you say “I love you”?
I’m not asking about your love language, I’m asking how you phrase the sentence. Do you drop the “I” for a simple “Love you!” Do you keep it casual at the end with an “I love ya!” A combo of the two “Love ya!” Or maybe you go full conversation heart with “Luv U!”
You probably reserve the full throttle “I love you” for the real deals. Ailing parents or children. Partners on a special anniversary. Unabashed moments with your dog. Any other time combining the complete I and Love and You seems too much, too earnest, too Colin Firth running through the airport. It’s intense.
When you shoot off a “Love ya!” you’re not really putting yourself out there in any sort of scary way. Heck… throw a “babe” at the end of the sentence and you might as well be driving down Mulholland, screaming into a giant cell phone, signing Nicholas Cage to a three picture deal in 1984.
I have even used “143!” For a while the kids were using it to say “ILY.” The numbers correspond to the number of letters in each word of “I (1) love (4) you (3)” It took me longer than it should have (as a grown ass boss babe slay bitch) to realize if you have to use numbers to say it, you probably don’t.
But why is it so hard to say? Three little words. Is it because we are afraid we won’t hear them back? That once they escape our lips they’ll linger in the air like perfume in an elevator?
Is it because once they’re out there, we’ve moved beyond something easy to quit? Those three little words, in all their full-blown splendour are saying “You’ve taken up residence in my heart. Please don’t smoke inside and don’t put holes in the walls.”
Terrifying.
Or is it? Maybe it’s immensely freeing. After the last three years in the pandemic, keeping distant from those you only want to hold close, having people move away, losing people, I only want to say “I love you.” Everything else seems inconsequential. I want my heart to be so full of love that the words just explode like a hot dog in a microwave. I want it bubbling out of me like water out of a pot filled with too much spaghetti. I want it tumbling out of me like a tipped over bag of Hawkins Cheezies!
Maybe you think Hawkins aren’t the only thing in this newsletter that’s cheesy. Maybe you’re saying “Jan… if we say it so much, the words will lose all meaning, no? Shouldn’t we save it for the really really special specials?”
I dunno. Maybe.
But with everybody lighting all their fancy candles whenever and using all their best dishes for whatever and wearing all their good clothes wherever, I’m gonna spill my love guts to whomever will listen. Because much like that fancy candle, I would hate for a day to come when I’m no longer able to spark that flame.
And if you’re afraid the words will stop packing a punch, well… There’s always cookies.
Happy Valentine’s day to you, my friends.
And if you’re looking for a little V-day baking project, THIS was a really fun one.
What a funny, loving, lovely read to wake up to! I am grabbing my shuggies and my KD PB and hitting that recipe HARD!! I love you Two Little Sandwiches. Congrats.