The Problem With “Love Languages”

Everybody has preferences about everything.

And…

We all have to adjust to each person with whom we share a relationship.

The tension between these two realities is both an exciting opportunity and an aggravating burden. Unresolved, it’s a challenge that dominates some relationships for decades; successfully navigated, it can launch a relationship on a sea of satisfaction.

WE DIFFER

You say it’s cozy, I say it’s messy. You like it faster, I say it’s already fast. You call it colorful self-expression, I call it tastelessly garish.

And you want lavish gifts, while I want to give you…not-so-lavish gifts. I prefer celebrating you with loving words. Thoughtful, intimate gestures. Little fun surprises. Keeping my agreements. Reminding you to take your medicine. Holding your hand when we’re with other people.

You say your Love Language is lavish gifts (or “acts of service,” or blowjobs, or whatever), and that they’re the primary way that you know you’re loved. Therefore, if I want you to feel loved, that’s the vocabulary I need to use; without lavish gifts (or whatever), you say all my other gestures are meaningless.

Hmm. I love you, but you sound rigid, self-centered, bossy, rude. On top of that, you expect lavish gifts, too.

And to justify your rigidity, you refer to the simplistic 1992 best-seller The Five Love Languages, by Baptist pastor Gary Chapman.

LOVE LANGUAGES

Patients and therapists alike have bought into the rigid astrological system of Love Languages. You can’t help what month you were born, or the color of your eyes, or your “innate” Love Language. Not only can’t you help them, you’re not responsible for them.

As a therapist, I hear this all the time: “If you don’t have sex whenever I ask for it, I feel rejected.” “If you don’t love my dog as much as I do, I take it personally.” “I’ve always felt that a big anniversary gift means the marriage is solid.”

Then there’s the mirror version of “This is how I feel loved”: “This is the limited way in which I express myself”:

“I’m from a big Italian family—we always yell and call each other names.” “I’m a middle child, so of course I’m a people pleaser.” “I’m a New York Jew—sarcasm is how we say I love you.” “I’m an Enneagram 7, so I just can’t be on time, or put the cap back on the toothpaste.”

Both sets of ideas reflect a highly destructive idea: “This is just who I am, and I can’t change.”

In the ongoing, eternal power tectonics within all dyads—spouses, friends, siblings, parent-child—claiming “we HAVE to do this my way” is always a source of problems. And when someone says “…and I can’t help it,” it feels like they’re playing dirty: checkmate. That hardly invites cooperation. It invites “Oh, you ‘can’t help it?’ Wish I thought of that first.”

Or it invites “I guess I’m gonna feel resentful when I go to make you feel loved.” Of course, that’s a corrosive dynamic—but Love Language pirates are so focused on being loved in their perfect way it limits their empathy: “We’re negotiating my psychic life and death, don’t bother me with empathy!”

And because a lot of therapy these days is about identity and boundaries, patients are learning to say X is who I AM, not simply what I prefer; Y is a PERSONALITY type, not a habit; Z is INBORN, not a decision. This weds the narcissism of victimhood with the power grab of entitlement. It’s not attractive, but worse, it undermines the ability to be intimate.

“TRIGGERED?”

Patients and therapists talk a lot about people getting “triggered.” It seems lots of folks are walking time bombs, and hearing or seeing the wrong thing makes them explode. Given their past experiences, or present circumstances, they just can’t help it.

Of course we know that everyone has vulnerabilities—I don’t like being teased about my weight, you don’t like being reminded of your unfortunate early marriage—but I believe we’re each responsible for how we respond to our past and our present.

I have patients who are still volatile and ready to snap four or five years after their partner has been unfaithful. They might be having a perfectly friendly afternoon, being a reasonable partner—until infidelity is mentioned in a sitcom, or a newsfeed, or by a neighbor. They suddenly become explosive, enraged, sullen, attacking—and their partner is expected to tolerate this because they got “triggered.”

I even have patients who warn me not to bring up one or another sensitive subject because they or their mate will get “triggered.” Since I’m not afraid of such an event, I generally don’t steer clear of Scylla or Charybdis—so we can actually do the therapeutic work that’s necessary.

What will diminish or end the trigger—or will someone be volatile for the rest of their lives? This is a strictly practical question. Since there will never be a world in which the infidelity didn’t happen, nor a world in which reminders of infidelity don’t exist, what will happen to change someone’s triggers? At what point in the future WON’T this person be triggered? And are there any ways to get there faster?

COUNSELING COUPLES

So how do I counsel couples with discrepant Love Languages?

I ask that they think of Love Languages as PREFERENCES: “I prefer to get gifts” rather than “I have to get gifts;” “I don’t enjoy giving gifts” rather than “Gift giving is not my way.” That changes the feel of things, and invites introspection.

I ask them to find ways of asking for love, expressing love, and accepting love that they have in common: taking care of the couple’s cats, for example, or cleaning up after each other.

And I remind them that the more ways you have of feeling loved, the more you’ll feel loved. So start experimenting with expanding your vocabulary. Because feeling loved isn’t an event, it’s an ongoing process—one that both parties need to participate in.
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