My love language is seconds.

There is a book about love languages. It has been recommended to me by multiple people and I have yet to read it. It is somewhere around #32 on my list of books to read. And the list is at least 50 deep right now. Unfortunately it is buried behind “how to get your kids to sleep” and “how to get your 4 year old to listen” and “how to fix that cracked drywall so it won’t fall on your head” books.

Anyway there are love languages, maybe 5 or so, and I think someone told me one has to do with words and one has to do with touch and that is all I remember. And I think the gist of it is that each person has a different love language that resonates most strongly with them. So when you are communicating “love” it is nice to try and communicate in that language for that person. (My apologies to anyone who has read the book, I am sure I am butchering this royally and will now have to move this book to #2 or #3 so I can read it forthwith and make amends in this blog space. At my current rate of reading books that should be around 2020.)

But the point of this post is NOT to do a really poor job paraphrasing someone else’s work without having even read the work. No. The point is to say, without ever reading this book I figured out my love language. It is seconds.

Not the kind on the clock, although I like seconds, because they equal time. And I certainly never seem to have enough of that. So, sure, I will take more seconds. Thank you very much.

But I digress, the kind of seconds that speak to me are second-helpings. The kind when I have cooked a meal and someone eats it and then says “Is there more? I want seconds.” Aaaaah, love. Warm squishy happy in my heart love. That is speaking my language.

Now I’m not saying everyone who eats my food should ask for seconds, because then we will have issues with portion control and I will be contributing to the growing obesity epidemic in the US. And frankly every meal I cook is NOT seconds worthy. But every once in a while, blammo, things just come together. The meal speaks to the person and then the person asks for seconds and then my heart is happy in a really crazy, unreasonable way, because it’s just food.

So, I have no idea what love language that is, but if seconds is a language, then that is mine! And to keep with the theme of this blog, if I were my own best friend I would listen to that happy, squishy warm heart feeling and try to recreate that when I can. And I would try to figure out other people’s love languages because it would be nice to make them feel happy, squishy warm hearted too.

(Or maybe I could just read the book… it happens to be called “The Five Love Languages: The secret to love that lasts” by Gary Chapman. Ha. I looked it up!)

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