I wish I could think of a cleverer title for this post. I wish I knew what my love language was without having to do the test. I swear I've done this test three times at least. It's usually a close call between quality time and physical touch (though anyone who knows me personally will tell you physical touch wins out by miles). I'm a very handsy person, which makes it really fortunate I'm not a man. Not that you don't get into trouble as a girl. When I was younger, I never could figure out why guys were coming onto me, what it all meant. Touching. Other people's warmth. Sometimes I think I still don't.
Why just five? I think the answer depends on when you're asking, though generally, things like acts of service will always score very low. Which leads me more into relationships in general. I value my autonomy almost as much as I appreciate being heard. I need to be able to do things on my own and know it won't threaten nobody.
I need to know that my words matter, otherwise I won't feel like you love me at all.
These are things that are important to me in love. In any relationship. There's very few things someone can do that will hurt me more than not listening to me, disregarding my opinion and feeling as whim is something I don't care for. I'm not saying I need to be off-putting, just independent. I have a hard time remembering where I end and others begin, sometimes, so trying to swallow me up whole feels frightening. Overbearing. Past mes have wished that the people loved would open their mouths a little less. Would know to not take me whole, that it's more than I can afford to give them.
Love languages. How do you say I love you? I love hanging out and touching people, sure. But if I had to pick my own answer, I'd inevitably say through music. I shouldn't have missed out on the mix-tape generation, that's all I'll say.
It's just... sharing music has always been this semi-sacred space to me. I know people who show you songs just because they like 'em, but it's never been able to mean nothing to me. It's so intimate. All the people I love best are people I can share music with. I don't know where my music taste would be if it hadn't been for love.
It should be books. For a writer. Shouldn't it? It should be saying "here's a story that shook me", and occasionally it is, but it never means the same thing. It's never a way of saying "I'm thinking of you".
Music has always been my slow autumn. My everything carries me to you moment.
It's quite easy. When you're in love, everything carries you to that person, so suddenly all songs sound kinda like him, and you've become this terrible toady little spammer in their inbox. All you can do is hope they won't mind.
Touch. Meaningful time. I've forgotten the others. Saying I love you. I suppose that's words of affection. Does that matter? I think, frankly, we make too much of a fuss. It's obviously important, and I'm definitely a sayer, but there's all this pressure in relationships (mostly from media, I suppose) on saying. I remember distinctly being in my boyfriend's shower after I'd said it the very first time, feeling simply awful that he hadn't said it back. I was so young. I didn't understand all this life he'd had before me, that the words didn't mean so much at all, that in the end, it would be him getting his heart broken so much worse than I. But then, that's the miracle of living where we are, not where we'll end up being.
I love you. How do you say it? Desperately, feverishly, on every streetlamp and graffitied wall. When it matters. Me? Through music, almost always.
I've tried in my own way to answer this week's Ladies of Hive prompts, posed by the wonderful 
