Fill 'Er Up?

I'm in Miami prospecting for biz. I realized the other day that my year has been an incredibly productive one. I've got an office, may have a line on a place, and I'm making money from all the schmoozing for profit and then hard work to actually realize the dough.

She-Who-Visits was maybe coming up to see me, but got sick, got work, had obligations; blah, blah, blah. Actually, I sincerely believe she does miss me and might have hopped a flight up just for an overnight if she hadn't had a cold all week.

Yesterday she BBM'd me a picture of a book she wanted me to read.

"Your next book." she declared.

I of course BBM'd her back a picture of some incredibly kitschy faux leopard wedges.

"Your next pair of shoes?", I shot off while I wondered how to deliver tongue-in-cheek via BBM. The downside of keeping in touch graphically. Two minutes later my phone rang. It was She.

"Have you bought the book yet?" she asked.

"Ummmm...no. It's been like, ten minutes," I replied wondering if she'd not gotten a cold but been suddenly afflicted with Dominitus, a disease she almost never contracts.

"Oh good, because I have another one for you to read instead. It's called "The Five Love Languages". My heart sank. I hate pop-culture marriage counselors. She went on and on about the book and what a revelation it was for her. I thought it said more about where she was at with her marriage than anything. But she enthusiastically endorsed the book and gushed about how it helped her understand how she and her husband were missing the mark.

She said it would help me spend my remaining time with my wife in a more positive, happy way. I felt instantly grateful, despite my lack of enthusiasm for quick fix, fast food, fakers. She'd been going through a rough patch, found some hope in this book and wanted to help me too. It's one of the astonishing things about our connection. We've been incredibly supportive of each other's marriages.

Anyway, despite using concepts like "emotional love tanks" that need to be filled (ooh baby, baby - can I fill your love tank, huh?) and boiling the complex interactions of a multi-decade marriage into five distinct "languages", I have to admit I'm getting something out of Dr. Gary Chapman's mass market balm.

He identifies five primary ways people feel loved. He calls them languages. They are: Words of Affirmation; Quality Time; Receiving Gifts; Acts of Service; and Physical Touch. He says most marriages encounter difficulty because one spouse is speaking one language and the other a completely different one.

She said Mr. She was definitely a Quality Time guy. I asked her what she thought I was and she said she didn't know me in that way. I shot back that of course she does. She's smart, intuitive, and knows me better than she's really known any other guy except maybe her husband - a fact she often "forgets" because it's tough for her to acknowledge.

And in that moment I was sure my "love lingo" was Words of Affirmation. As I've been reading the book I also think that I've become fluent in trying to feed my need for spoken praise and acknowledgement by learning how to try to please by doing things. In other words I've become fluent in Acts of Service. I did this because my mom never really told me what a fantastic kid I was. I've been attracted to women, like She, who withold their praise and then I sexualize that. Hence, I'm a humiliation junkie.

I BBM'd She and told her this without even reading the stupid book. My wife is for sure a Quality Time girl and I've neglected that horribly. She-Who-Visits is, and I'd wager my last dime she agrees, an Acts of Service domme. My need to act in service to get my precious Words of Affirmation was why we got along so well.

She thanked me for my "cliff notes guessing game".

Isn't that sweet? She uses words to affirm me and humiliates me with dignity all at once. It's why I love her so. Or at least one reason I put up with all her mishigas. That's craziness for all you goyisha kampfs. But hey, I slather mayo on white so who am I to talk.

So even in the most banal of McPsychobabble nonsense, I find sustenance, a connection to two women I dearly love, and a subject with which to torture you, my dear readers. Ooops...did I just seem to enjoy switching roles?