Learning to say “I love you.”
“I love you, Cait.”
He says it nonchalantly, dropping it into the conversation as casually as if he were commenting on the weather before grabbing another piece of prosciutto.
I, on the other hand, freeze in the way one might if their dinner companion suddenly placed a bomb in the middle of the table.
Adam and I have just returned to Belgrade, Serbia from a weekend of camping a few hours south of the city. We’re out to dinner at a charming restaurant on Skadarlija, a vintage, pedestrian-only, cobblestone street in the center of town. Our table is outside, where we can enjoy the warm summer evening and hear a talented violinist serenading other diners nearby. It’s the perfect spot for a romantic date except for one thing: this isn’t a date.
My internal critic goes into freakout mode — Omg, what does he want? What have you done? Did you lead him on? He’s already in a relationship — they’re super cute together. Also, you adore her! How could you have possibly thought it was a good idea to go camping with him alone? Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. Fix this. Fix this, NOW!
I chew the piece of bread in my mouth into complete mush. When I can’t possibly chew it anymore, I swallow and say the only thing that comes to mind, a super awkward, “thank you.”
Internal critic: wow, that was lame, but at least you’ve mitigated the damage.
The meal continues. Adam behaves as if everything is perfectly normal. I silently multitask between pretending that everything is perfectly normal and replaying the events of the weekend in my head to find where I went wrong.
It had seemed perfectly innocent. We both wanted to go camping, so we drove out of the city, found a campground, and had an amazing, completely platonic weekend together. We’d gotten back around dinner time and decided to share a great meal to wrap up the weekend.
Looking at it, it still seemed completely innocent.
So, what was going on? Where was this “I love you” nonsense coming from?
As the panic subsided, a new thought finally occurred to me — what if he just meant “I love you” as a friend? Is that possible? Do people do that?
I liked the idea, and yet it was the first time in my life this had ever happened to me. I thought about it a little more and realized, of course, I absolutely love him as a friend. At the end of the meal, as we were giving each other a hug goodbye, I managed to say “I love you, too.” It felt awkward, but I still said it.
After I got back to my apartment, I crawled into bed and took a good hard look at my relationship with those three little words — I love you.
I looked at the list of people I’d ever said those words to. The list felt tiny in comparison to the number of people I’ve actually loved in my life.
People I’d said “I love you” to:
- My parents
- My brother
- My nephews
- My grandparents
- My aunts (possibly a few other family members)
- My high school boyfriend
- My ex-husband.
Somewhere along the line, I’d internalized the belief that it was only acceptable to say “I love you” to family members and romantic partners (and only after we’d been together for an “appropriate” amount of time). The idea of saying it to anyone else, let alone a guy friend, felt taboo and risky.
At the same time, I realized how badly I wanted to say it, regardless of the perceived risks.
In the months that followed, I started practicing with my friends — first with newer friends, later with friends I’d known for a long time (it felt easier to start saying “I love you” in relationships where there wasn’t such a long pattern of not saying it). The practice felt crunchy at first, but it’s becoming easier and easier with time.
Almost a year later, I can say “I love you” without overthinking it to way more people than I could before. Nowadays, I’m more surprised by the moments where it’s difficult for me to say it than the moments where it flows out easily.
As far as my fears about it being risky? It’s entirely possible that someone has thought I’m weird (probably many people, actually). Not everyone has said “I love you” back — a lot of people seem to share my initial fear reaction to hearing it. That’s ok. No one has said anything hurtful to me, even if I can tell they feel uncomfortable hearing me say it.
I’ve also been surprised by how much this practice has changed the love I experience. I’ve started to hear, “I love you,” from more and more people. On top of people saying “I love you” back to me, I’ve heard so many unsolicited “I love you’s” that I’ve lost count. It’s a beautiful gift I hadn’t known I was missing.
Even more importantly, it makes me feel happy to tell those around me “I love you.”
And so, dear reader, I love you.
I’ll also give you a question and an invitation. What’s your relationship to saying “I love you”? If you don’t already do it, I invite you to give it a try. Go ahead, say “I love you” to more people in your life. As you do, give yourself a lot of compassion if it feels awkward or difficult — it will get easier with time, I promise.
As for Adam? A few months after that dinner, I finally got up the guts to tell him this story and thank him for helping me recognize my “I love you”-phobia.
He looked at me and smiled. He shared with me that he tells all of his friends “I love you,” especially the ones who get squirmy when they hear it.
“It’s important,” he said.
I couldn’t agree more.
