Two nights ago, our friend Keary came over so that Molly Mae and her boyfriend Milo could have some good old quality time together (and so that Keary and I could watch hours of Downton Abbey). I felt bad that I was basically ditching Jacob because we all know there’s no way he would sit through even one episode of Downton Abbey, much less four.
As Keary and I snuggled up on the couch with the now sleepy puppies, Jacob headed up the stairs. I told him I loved him and that I’d be up “soon” (knowing full well that “soon” meant in 5 hours). As we started the first episode, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I looked over and there was Jacob, carefully coming back down the stairs, juggling a teapot full of cider, two mugs, a blanket, and a box of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate and sea salt covered caramels. I about died. He looked so sweet bringing us treats and trying to make our time as cozy as possible. It reminded me that this is how he loves me.
When we started dating we used to talk about our “love languages”, the way we love others, and the way we feel loved. We had each heard about the 5 Love Languages (Quality Time, Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, and Receiving Gifts) and separately had our ideas of what our love languages were. I don’t remember the exact day we had this conversation, but I remember a semi-awkward chat in which we talked about what we thought our love languages were. We were happy that both of our love languages were Quality Time. However, as we grew as a couple, got to know each other more, and moved into a season of marriage, we realized that our love languages were actually different than we thought. I found myself constantly seeking Jacob’s touch and only feeling loved if he told me consistently. A few months into being married, I began to watch him and realize that I was loving him by hugging him and telling him how proud I was of him, and he was loving me through doing the dishes, making the bed, and going grocery shopping. I realized that he was loving me the way he wanted to be loved and I was loving him the way I wanted to be loved. I remember one night we talked about how we could love each other better. Since that night, I have noticed he makes a constant, conscious effort to snuggle me longer and tell me I look beautiful. But I still catch him in the kitchen or making the bed, serving me.
Every day he serves me. And by serving me, he loves me.
If you want to take a quiz to find out your love language, click here.
I’d love to hear about your love languages. <3