Who’s read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman? The premise of this book is pretty simple: We all have different ways of expressing and receiving love, so we need make sure we’re expressing our love in our partner’s preferred "love language".
According to Chapman, the five "love languages" are:
Words of Affirmation
Acts of Service
Chapman says our "love tanks" (stay with me) become empty when our partner expresses their love in a language we don’t understand. You might be expressing love in your preferred love language, but if your partner speaks a different language, their love tank (I know, I’m sorry) will soon run dry.
Unfortunately, my husband’s "Love Language" is "Acts of Service". He feels loved when I do things for him – things like unloading the dishwasher, washing the clothes, putting petrol in the car, cooking the dinner, making him a cuppa.. You know, doing,not talking…
This presents a bit of a challenge to a lazy chatterbox like me.
Housework actually makes me angry. About 20 minutes into it, I start feeling like a caged rat. If I do happen to do some, I make sure I leave visible evidence of it; great big piles of washing on the living room couch, the vacuum cleaner in the middle of the floor, the Spray ‘n Wipe (other brands are available) on the kitchen bench.. Look! I did housework! Even though I hate it SO much! See how much I love you?
I think my Mum played a big part in my aversion to housework. She would often say to us, ‘A tidy house is a sign of a wasted mind’ and ‘What’s the point? It’s just like raking up leaves’.When I got married, she told me never to iron a shirt or it would just be expected.She did give me an excellent cooking tip though: ‘Just cook an onion in a pan and he will come home thinking dinner is on the stove’.
Housework (done properly) is seamless, invisible and constant. It’s also thankless, never-ending and so, so boring.
It’s better to keep up than catch up.
A place for everything and everything in its place.
So the poor guy has spent the last 17 years with a woman who doesn’t really speak his language. I tell him he has a choice. He can come home to a tidy house and a cranky wife, or a messy house and a happy wife. But in reality I’ve been making that choice for him. Happy wife! Happy, slobby, what’s-the-point-it’s-just-
I know what you’re thinking. Get off your arse and do some housework!
Well, that’s all fine, but I don’t think it’s very fair, because my Love Language is "Words of Affirmation".