Love Is A Verb.

Love is a verb.

I know it’s been said before, in poetry and song, but I would like to remind you that … love is a verb.

Okay so maybe I’m lying. Because love is actually also a noun, I know.

Love (noun): a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

I guess that’s a thing, that love. And yet it’s really not. Because love is not some fluffy blob that lands on your head or floats in the ether or gets mailed in a card or thrown against a wall.

Love is a verb. It requires action.

Love (verb): to have a profoundly tender, passionate affection for (another person).

I’m sorry but I think your definition is shit. Because to love someone is not to have. To love someone is to do.

It’s all nice and fine to say “I love you” and to write “I love you” and to believe that you feel love but to really love you must do something which expresses that love. Which shows the object of your love in no uncertain terms that they are loved. Love requires action. Love requires proof.

Several years ago I was “in love” with a man who was still living with his wife. While his wife was involved in a relationship with my ex-husband. I know this sounds wacky but I’m not making it up. You see G and I fell in love (perfect expression by the way because falling usually involves injury) and we left our spouses. They were pretty devastated until a few weeks and many shared shoulders later they fell in love. With each other. So G and I are living together and they are both still occupying the matrimonial homes and eventually G gets all messed up and moves home because it was actually his dad’s house (long story) and as far as he could see it she (his ex) was going to have to move eventually.

Or not.

So he’s living there and she’s living there except for the nights that she is there because then he is with me and then on the nights that she is with my ex husband he it back at that old matrimonial home. It’s all pretty crazy but she apparently likes this set-up and so does he and also apparently so does my ex.

And then G comes to see me on those “off” nights and tells me that he loves me. “I love you, Vickie” he says. Over and over again. After well over a year of this nutty (yet apparently acceptable) set-up he loves me (he says) but he makes no move to change the set-up or his seemingly happy acceptance of this set-up or my daily incredulity that this set-up may never fucking end.

That was the first time it hit me.

Love is a verb. Doesn’t matter what you say or how many times you say it, if your actions don’t reflect those words they are just words. Empty blobs of verbal fluff, landing on your head. And G’s actions did not demonstrate love. At least not love for me.

More recently, I have encountered another “love is just a word” situation. And before I tell you that story, let me preface by saying I understand that friendships change and evolve through time and geography and sometimes you just bank that the love is there and trust that the love will be acted upon in some way sooner or later.

So I have this lovely friend – one of my true soul-mate friends – and in recent years circumstance has put a few miles between us. And that’s okay. Because what with internet and Facebook and emails and texting we can all stay connected to anyone, anywhere. And then my birthday comes … and goes … and not a word from this friend. Not a Facebook greeting, not am email, not a quick call and not an old-fashioned card in the mail.


And I think Damn, she must be busy.

She is, this I know. Not too busy to post frequently on Facebook, mind you. Just too busy to remember my birthday.

And I truly believe that there are certain things you just remember when you are loving friends. A birthday is one of them.

She also was too busy to reply to a request I made via Facebook messaging. And so busy it took her a week to respond to an email I sent asking her to respond to the email.

However, when she did finally respond, she told me she loved me.

She does. I know this. And nothing that I have written here will change that love (I doubt she reads my blogs anyway) nor will it change the immense love I feel for her.

But love is a verb. And for me, it is not enough to know love. I want to feel love. I want to feel loved.

This goes for me and every relationship – my mother, my beau, my son, my friends – I want to feel loved. I honestly don’t think I’m over-greedy and I honestly believe I give at least as much as I hope to receive. But that ethereal fluffy blob of love that floats around the perimeter of my existence has never been and will never be enough. Love as merely a noun can be decidedly hollow.

Love as a verb is life’s greatest gift. To bestow it with action and receive it with acknowledgment (and gratitude) is the cog that makes every wheel turn.

At least my wheels.

G and I (obviously) did not last. I can say with a certain amount of shameful pride that I did everything I told him I would do to facilitate our new life together. I loved him completely and my actions spoke daily to that truth.

His actions also spoke daily – to his truth. And as it turns out, his truth had little to do with loving me.

Funnily enough, his ex and mine are still together. My guess is their love for each other has been acted upon, reenforced and further acted upon, year after year. Ten years to be exact. Good for them. And yes, she did finally leave the old family homestead, after G and I broke up and after G started bringing new ladies home. That must have been weird.

Ya think?

As for my long-lost friend, she is not really lost and I’m quite sure it will all work out. We’re not having sex which for whatever reason makes it less dramatic. Funny, isn’t it? Romantic love requires even more action that just regular ole love.

Hey, I didn’t make up the rules. And as far as I’m concerned my son can tell me loves me all he wants, and my family can tell me they love me all they want, and so can my friends and my fans and the man in the moon.

Fluffy blobs.

Because I need to be shown. I need action. I need proof.

Love is a verb.

John Mayer – “Love Is A Verb”

Love is a verb
It ain’t a thing
It’s not something you own
It’s not something you scream

When you show me love
I don’t need your words
Yeah love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb
Love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb

Love ain’t a crutch
It ain’t an excuse
No you can’t get through love
On just a pile of IOUS

Love ain’t a drug
Despite what you’ve heard
Yeah love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb
Love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb

So you gotta show, show, show me
Show, show, show me
Show, show, show me
That love is a verb

Yeah you gotta show, show, show me
Show, show, show me
Show, show, show me
That love is a verb

Love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb

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. Listening while drinking is also fun so check out my podcast! And then there's that book (memoir) that I wrote: Confessions of a Potty-Mouthed Chef: How to Cheat, Eat and be Happy! My life has provided me with a wealth of inspiration. Maybe something here will inspire you too? ~Vickie
This entry was posted in relationships. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s