Don’t Say You Love Me

Summary

The author expresses discomfort with people professing love for them without truly knowing them, questioning the authenticity of such declarations based on casual acquaintance or shared DNA.

Abstract

The author, who identifies as a writer with a sensitivity to language, reveals a significant pet peeve about people saying "I love you" without a deep understanding of who they are. They believe that love should be reserved for those with whom one has a meaningful relationship and knowledge of personal details, such as fears, hopes, and interests. The author feels that familial ties alone do not justify the expression of love and finds the superficial use of the word "love" by relatives and acquaintances to be unsettling and inauthentic. They advocate for genuine connections and understanding before declarations of love are made.

Opinions

The author values the weight and significance of the words "I love you" and believes they should be used with care and intention.
Love, in the author's view, is not automatic or guaranteed by family relationships; it must be cultivated through personal knowledge and a deep relationship.
The author feels that saying "I love you" should reflect a comprehensive understanding of the person, including their likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams.
The author is skeptical of love expressed by people who have only a superficial connection or knowledge of them, finding it disingenuous and uncomfortable.
They suggest that people who claim to love them may actually love an idealized version of the author that does not align with reality.
The author prefers that individuals take the time to form a genuine relationship with them before expressing love, rather than relying on a shared genetic link or casual acquaintance.

You Don’t Even Know Me

Maybe it’s because I’m crazy. Or maybe it’s because as a writer, I have certain hang-ups about the use of language. Either way, I have a huge pet peeve that some people might find odd, or even cold. I really can’t stand it when people say they love me when it’s painfully obvious on even a cursory review that they don’t even know me.

To me, saying you love someone is not something to be taken lightly. You just don’t go around saying it to everyone. It’s not casual. It expresses a deep knowledge of the person, a feeling of unconditional acceptance, comfort and trust based on having some sort of relationship with that person.

I’m a very warm-hearted person, generally speaking, although I’m not much for outward displays of affection. I love my husband. I love my kids. I loved my father. I love my best friend. That’s pretty much it.

However, I have found myself in countless situations where the people who profess their love for me are virtual strangers. Sure, we’re related, but I come from a big family. I’m related to hundreds, if not thousands, of people.

For example, I have several half-siblings and even more cousins. Some of these people I’ve met maybe a dozen times in my 5 decades on the planet. Others, I’ve seen even less frequently. None of us were raised in the same household. Yet every encounter, every conversation ends up with the “I love you” bomb being dropped on me. The same thing happens when I stop in to say hi to my biological father, a man I’ve spent less than a combined total of 24 hours with over the years.

Every time those words are uttered by people with whom I share nothing but a passing acquaintance (and maybe a bit of DNA), I become very uncomfortable. It sends my mind reeling.

How can you love me if your knowledge of me is limited to my name, perhaps my date of birth (but not always), my occupation, and how we’re related? That’s not enough to form any sort of sense of me at all. And it doesn’t draw me closer to you. In fact, it makes me want to run as far away as I can possibly get.

How can you love someone you know nothing about? How can you love me when you don’t know even the most basic things about me like:

My favorite color? My biggest fear? My next biggest fear (after the obvious first one, bees)? My children’s names? My eye color? My hopes and dreams? My hobbies and interests? My proudest moments?

Heck, for all you know, I could be a raving psychotic murderer or a pathological liar or goodness knows what else (I’m not, I’m just making a point here).

I’m sure there’s an argument somewhere that goes something like, “We love you because you’re family.” Yeah, that doesn’t work for me. I have lots of family members that I don’t even like, let alone love. Sharing a few strands of DNA isn’t enough. It might be a start, maybe, sometimes, but it’s neither a sufficient nor complete basis to say you love someone. And neither is having a passing acquaintance with someone.

I think what these people really love is the idea of me. They’ve created an image in their mind of what or who I am. It sets up an expectation that’s completely unfair. And the sad part is, it’s probably an expectation I’ll probably never live up to. So, to save everyone a whole lot of trouble, how about getting to know me first and loving me later.