To Woo or Not to Woo …

I haven’t been rambling much of late. It’s not that my life isn’t still wine-soaked, it’s more that I’ve just become somewhat, well, quiet. Not because quiet is my natural disposition; it most certainly is pretty much the opposite. More because it would appear that I am thinking more before I ramble. Honestly this isn’t really much fun. Drinking before rambling is fun. Thinking before rambling renders me … silent.

Because I truly am a “words” girl. Several ramblings back (July 8 to be exact) I wrote about love languages. And my language is “words”. Or to quote author Gary Chapman (who wrote the book “The 5 Love Languages“) words of assurance.

Yep, that’s me. Little old un-assured, wallowing-in-wonder, please-feed-my-word-addiction me.  And that’s just me on a regular day. Imagine me on a day or to be more succinct a whole bunch of days strung together in a row when the object of my affection and I are apart. As in geographically disconnected. We’re talking separate continents here, people. Really apart.

Except with the advent of modern technology no one need be really apart anymore, right? My friend S and her love M recently spent three work-related months on opposite sides of the globe but twice-daily Skype-fests kept them virtually (literally) entwined. J and her husband D have spent several weeks at a time in different provinces but always make a point to talk on the phone at least once (often twice!) per day. What with texts, emails, on-line chatting and video interfacing we truly are one big happy global family.

Except for when you’re a word-girl like me. When you’re a word girl like me it’s not just about communication frequency (although that is important). It’s about the “quality” of the words. It’s about their emotional impact. It’s about how they might stir my senses and caress me to the core. It’s about me being a ridiculously optimistic romantic (insert “fool” here) who longs for sweeping sonnets, playful poetry and something – anything – that will make me feel loved, missed, desired.
I was recently reminded of a line in the movie “Dead Poet’s Society”, when the Robin Williams character advises his students to “Avoid using the word ‘very’. Because it’s lazy. A man is not ‘very tired’. He is ‘exhausted’. Don’t use ‘very sad’. Use ‘morose’. Language was invented for one reason boys – to woo women. And, in that endeavour, laziness will not do.”

Oh baby, how I doth agree!

You see the thing is, when you’re apart from your lover, all of the other love languages are no longer at your disposal. And yes, we do speak them all. It’s just that most people have a primary one (have I mentioned that mine is “words”?).

When miles separate two hearts, it’s somewhat inconvenient to give generously (“Gifts”). Oh sure you can always bring back a wee memento but that doesn’t help with the daily speak. Although I will admit that when my son was very young and his father and I left him for a full week so that we could avail ourselves of an almost-free cruise (the shame!) I left a wrapped gift for him to open every single day that we were gone. I know my kid and he loves getting gifts. And so he felt loved (even though the ship sailed without him).

“Touch” (as you can imagine) is pretty much impossible when you’re not in the same room. Unless you’re cyber-kinky or phone-sex friendly and (I can only imagine) neither will ever really suffice.

“Acts of Service” are also difficult to facilitate across the miles. When I was in my early teens I went camping with a friend’s family for five days and upon my return discovered that my fabulous mother had turned all of my dull old brown bedroom furniture into French Provincial white! I was thrilled, and she certainly demonstrated big love through this act of service. But I only felt it after I got home. While I was sleeping under the pines I had no idea.

And then there’s “Quality Time”. Yes, it’s pretty tough to have quality time when you’re in different time zones. It’s not like you’re hanging out on the sofa holding hands and watching movies. Or cooking dinner together. Or even walking the dog together. Sure, there is that Skype thing and even phone calls but it’s really not the same, is it?

So now we’re back to words. This is the one love language that really doesn’t have to change a bit, miles be damned. Because as we romantics know well, a few perfect words can keep us floating for days. In a daze. That’s how damn easy we are.

But as Robin’s character stated, lazy words will never woo a woman. Perfunctory, cursory and mundane will never woo a woman. “Checking in” will never woo a woman. Even a travelogue (and I do like a good travelogue) will never woo a woman. All of the above she will welcome, yes, and even welcome with gratitude (honestly guys, sometimes we just want to know you’re alive) but will she feel loved? Missed? Wooed?

Notsomuch.

So what’s a poetically-challenged guy to do? I mean seriously, if pulling a lyrical ode out of your ass on a daily basis is as likely as say, cutting your trip short and rushing back to our loving arms, what’s a guy to do? You know, for maybe just a bit of wooing. Cup-of-woo as it were. Just enough to tide us over till you return to our ever-loving arms with gifts, touch, acts of service and quality time?

Well, as it turns out this is why God invented ‘the echo’. God must be a guy because he invented the echo to save your ode-less ass and still keep us chicks wooed. It works like this (because as previously mentioned we are that easy):

Text, or email –

Her: “I love you”.
Him: “I love you too, baby”.
Her: “I miss you”.
Him: “I miss you too, baby. More than you’ll ever know”.
Her: “I can’t wait to see you again in 6 months.”
Him: “Me you too, baby.”

DONE!

Like dinner. Wooed. Simply, easily, wonderfully wooed.

Now I’m not saying all of us word-gals wouldn’t prefer original rhapsodies, oozing with all the woo you can muster. We’re just pragmatic enough to realize that Shakespeare you most probably are not. And that’s okay. We are after all, in love with you. Not some guy with a funny collar and frilly shirt who may or may not have been authentic.

So travelling men, I leave you with this – whether you echo, compose, borrow or steal … woo with words. It will help the days fly by and … trust me, make the reunion very sweet.

Oh wait Robin – I meant delectable.

About winesoakedramblings - The Blog of Vickie van Dyke

Writing is therapy. Wine is therapy. Writing while drinking wine is the best therapy. Reading while drinking can also be fun. Thanks for stopping by. ~Vickie
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