Do you have a love language? This is not what I meant to blog about–not at all. Last night, however, I found myself reading the latest CBD catalog. Yes, I found myself reading it. I pick up these catalogs and idly peruse them, often times without realizing I’m doing so. Generally, this activity falls into the category of “I’m a home-school mom”. This particular edition didn’t have home-school materials in it. I’ve never ordered anything from them but school books, but that fact doesn’t seem to make one figwit of difference to them. They send me all of their catalogs regardless.
Therefore, I found myself staring at pictures of superstar Christian authors–authors that make me cringe at the image of plastic Christianity they show to the world. I won’t give any specifics, but I’m sure you can guess the authors I mean–the ones with airbrushed faces, flawless make-up and hair, straight white teeth, and quite possibly Botoxed eyes and scalpelled and stretched skin. After they create the image they want the world to see, they then write books advising women how to let go of insecurity. I’m left to presume that the answer has something to do with outward beauty. If we find the right plastic surgeon, we’ll be all right.
What a relief to know that, right? But if my self-image was in for a beating over the beautiful smiles that sell volumes of books, I didn’t understand where the true pit of despair truly was at. I don’t honestly care that I have wrinkles and wine-stained teeth and hair that never looks right. The book entitled “The Five Love Languages” tossed me in my pit, never to scrabble a way out–very much like the scorpion scraping his way up and back in my light fixture as I speak.
Curious to know what the five love languages were, I Googled the subject. I read this: “After many years of counseling, Dr. Chapman noticed a pattern: everyone he had ever counseled had a ‘love language,’ a primary way of expressing and interpreting love. He also discovered that, for whatever reason, people are usually drawn to those who speak a different love language than their own” (from 5 love languages). And then I read these supposedly universal love languages and realized I didn’t identify with any of them. My view on all of them, I hate to admit it, goes something like this: “Don’t ask too much of me, and I won’t ask too much of you.”
I have discovered through the CBD catalog that I’m not only an incurable cynic, but incapable of love. I’m an android. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I express love as others do with gifts and touch and quality time or service or complimentary words?
Are there any other androids out there, or am I alone? Do you have a love language?