Three little words (revisited)

I'm still thinking about those three little words.

I love you.

Judging by my continued contemplation, it's clear that these words are important and meaningful to me.  I may say that I love lots of things -- mangoes, the feel of warm sand between my toes, the music of Maroon 5, the silver Datsun 280ZX I had back in 1981 (still pissed I had to give that car up just because my husband decided it was time to start having sex with a "purpose"*).  But I have only said "I love you" to a select group of people.

I think the declaration "I love you" is a very powerful statement, an expression of commitment that isn't to be uttered lightly.  On the other hand, I believe that if you truly do love someone, it is important to verbally express your feelings.  I guess that's why it bugs me that my husband rarely tells me that he loves me.  I think my viewpoint also carries over to the relationship I have with another family member, my youngest child.

Until M started dating T in high school, I never noticed how she approached the phrase "I love you."  Early on there were occasions when I would be within earshot (not eavesdropping!) while M talked with T on her cell phone, and at the end of their conversations I would hear M say, "I love you too."  It was apparent T was always the one to say "I love you" first.**

Finally I asked M why she didn't say "I love you" first, and she told me that she just didn't.  She couldn't explain why she refrained from speaking first, but something (fear of rejection, shyness, insecurity?) kept her from initiating the exchange.

Gradually I realized that M's reluctance to speak first wasn't limited to her relationship with T; she also did the same thing with me.  I could sort of understand her hesitation with her boyfriend, especially since they had only been dating for a few months, but I had been her mother all of her life!  Surely she knew that I loved her and could be sure that if she told me she loved me, I would readily and sincerely tell her that I loved her too.  On more than one occasion I have told each one of my children that while there will be times when I may not like them very much, I will always love them.  Had M not heard that message or had she not believed me?

Three years later M and T are no longer dating and M still refuses to be the first one to say "I love you."  We talk on the phone almost every day and sometimes I "test" her.  As our conversation winds down, I resolve to wait for her to speak first.  I bring up a last minute topic -- something I "forgot" to tell her the last time we talked, anything to prolong the phone call and give her the opportunity to tell me that she loves me.

So far my ruse hasn't worked.  A few times I've even been stubborn enough to tell her that I'll talk with her soon and say good-bye.  When she responds by merely saying good-bye, I hang up the phone without telling her that I love her.

I hate myself when I do that.  I hate that I resort to lame tricks or emotional blackmail to try to get my daughter to voluntarily tell me that she loves me.  I hate that I'm so needy and I hate that the words "I love you" have the power to cause me so much pain.

* My husband and I bought my dream car in September of 1981 and traded it in for a 4-door Nissan Maxima in January of  1984.  We had decided to start trying to conceive and my husband felt we needed a "family car" instead of an awesome 2-door, 2 seat, stick shift, 5-speed overdrive sports car.  For the record, our first child wasn't born until August of 1985 and I would have gladly driven that 280ZX right up until the moment of my first contraction.

** There was only one time I heard M say "I love you" first to T, and even then I didn't actually hear her say it.  T went with us when we moved M into the dorm for her freshman year of college.  It was a very long day -- three hour drive to campus, move-in, room set-up, lunch, trip to the bookstore to drop almost $800 on books, very emotional good-byes, and then the return trip home that ended up taking almost five hours due to a horrific accident that closed down all traffic on I-65.  When we arrived back in CS, we were all physically and emotionally exhausted.  Standing in our driveway, T called M to tell her that we were home.  I was busy emptying out the car so I wasn't paying any attention to T's side of the conversation.  All of a sudden, one phrase jumped out at me -- I heard T say, "I love you too."  It was all I could do to not burst into tears.  M had said "I love you" first.  Even now as I type out this story, I am struggling to keep from crying.  When T hung up his phone, I looked at him and said, "She said 'I love you' first, didn't she?" and he just smiled and said, "Yes."