The Five Love Languages Can Use a Covid Update
Nothing says “I love you” like remembering to throw those used masks in the laundry
A few years ago, my husband and I both took the Five Love Languages quiz. Generally speaking, we have a strong relationship — married thirteen years, with three kids and a dog. But who couldn’t stand to deepen their intimacy and emotional connection to their partner by giving them the exact kind of love they need?
I learned that my primary love language was “physical touch,” while his was “quality time.” So, if he wanted to demonstrate his love in a way I’d appreciate, he could surprise me with a backrub or a make-out session, and if I wanted my actions to say “I love you” in his language, I could book a babysitter for the kids and a quiet restaurant for the two of us.
Fast-forward to today, with over one year of Covid-related isolation under our belts. We’ve been in Italy for most of this time, where the idea of quarantining is taken rather seriously. Want to take your Vespa to a restaurant outside of your village? You’ll be stopped by police and fined; and the restaurants are closed, anyway. Ciao, “quality time!”
All of this got me thinking that the Five Love Languages could use a Covid edition. Let’s be honest, my husband and I have had more than enough “quality time” together: over 365 consecutive nights, specifically. And physical touch? His, and my kids’, are the only ones I’ve known. So, with apologies to my former self, I’m due for a different kind of love.
With that in mind, we’ve developed new ways to say “I love you” during this most unusual time.
His: “buying beer.”
Nothing says “I love you” to him as much as my walking to the grocery store (risking my health by going into public) and splurging on those scarce IPAs (we’re in vino country, after all) and lugging them home, the weight of the bags imprinting strap-marks on my shoulders so that he has a cold brew to look forward to after the kids sign off their Zoom classrooms.
Mine: “solo parenting.”
I hear his love, loud and clear, when he makes custom checklists — one for each kid — to keep them away from YouTube or Minecraft long enough to do homework or practice piano while I go for a run and then work on my novel.
Other love languages include preparing a mug of ice cream as soon as the kids go to sleep, and preparing a pot of coffee as soon as they wake up; they also include throwing our used masks in the laundry, remembering to order the dog food to be delivered so that neither of us has to lug it home on foot (see “buying beer,” above), and rebooking our spring break trip for the umpteenth time, harboring the eternal optimism that one day, we’ll be able to take that elusive trip we had originally planned for April 2020.
One day, when we’re no longer together in the same space all hours of day and night, I might miss his touch. One day he’ll miss our quality time together, when he’s back to taking business trips and I’m feeling pulled away with family or social obligations. Until then, we’ll use our Covid love languages to remind ourselves just how much we mean to each other, during a pandemic, or not, quizzes be damned.
Jill Witty recently finished writing her first novel, a family drama set in California and Italy. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2020 and has published short stories, flash fiction, journalism, and creative nonfiction.
Prior to pursuing her lifelong dream of writing a novel, Witty worked in business for fifteen years, and has started three businesses as a solo entrepreneur and led the operations and HR functions for Bay Area startups. She writes and speaks frequently about diversity hiring and women in leadership.
An inveterate traveler, Witty currently resides in Florence, Italy, with her husband, three children, and rescue dog.
