Why is it that, whenever we think about those three words, the three words in question are always “I love you”?
My biggest problem with that specific phrase is that it breaks one of the cardinal rules of writing. Say it with me, kids:
Show, don’t tell.
When you say I love you, yeah, you’re being nice. You are sending positive thoughts from yourself to me. That’s worth something. But, man, if you really want to show your love, here are the those three words I’d prefer.
Here’s some pizza!
Hoo boy. This one’s going to open me up to Internet hate from skinny people, who think that my brain shouldn’t be going to food. Yeah, whatever.
Pizza is good. Pizza is heaven. Pizza is love.
There is something magical about that conglomeration of bread and tomatoes and cheese and an unbounded panoply of other toppings.
And, yes, that includes the humble pineapple.
But these ingredients, through some earthly transubstantiation, become more than the sum of the parts. They become their own heavenly thing, transcending all earthly humility and ascending to become, if not the food of the gods, then at least part of their divine menu options.
Variety is king, after all. And pizza allows for limitless variety, while also providing a reliable and (usually) silverware-free conveyance medium.
And pizza, much like engagement rings, has significance on any economic levels. Someday, we may aspire to eating slices of gold leaf and gilded pepperoni in a fancy Manhattan diner, but for now, until we make it in the world, Little Caesars will do.
Unlimited Broadway tickets!
There is nothing more magical and lovely than live theatre.
Sure, people might talk a big game about television, with the magic of using radio waves and cables and satellites to transmit stories. And sure, I guess they’re okay in their place. But if you really want to McDreamy me, let’s DVR Grey’s this week and go see a play.
I know I say Broadway, but, like with the pizza, this can work at any socioeconomic level. While we might wish we could pay $45 for a ticket and $25 for food at 54 Below, that day might not come for a long time. For now, it might just be community theatre and high school shows.
They have a magic over their own, after all. They have their own love.
Theatre is scripted, but unpredictable. Regimented, but limitless. Orderly, but with a surge of emotion that drives the whole thing. And it is fueled by love and passion and the best of the human impulse.
Theatre is intimate, without being selfish. We get to be together without having any pressure to entertain each other. Small talk is, in fact, discouraged. It gives us something to talk about. Theatre is sitting together, looking out onto the stage and into the future, the two of us and the rest of the world.
As it is on the stage, so it is in the universe.
Let’s fly away!
There is something about travel that will always amaze me. Transcending the limits of the world is an act of love.
If you go alone, it is an act of self-love. But, going with others, it’s an act of togetherness. It is facing the whole, wide, world — or, at least, some new and distant aspect of it — and letting that strange newness bring you closer with somebody.
Whereas a road trip — a long amount of time spent in a tightly confined space might test your love for this person, an airplane offers the perfect opportunity to stretch your legs, to hide in a bathroom, or for both of you to be annoyed at a whiny child.
Being annoyed at each other may drive you apart. But having a shared topic of annoyance is a bonding activity. And gives you great horror stories for the future.
One of my favorite quotes is from Gayle Forman’s novel, Just One Day:
C’est courageux d’aller dans l’inconnu.
The best way to experience that unknown is to fly away. Or, if you haven’t seen Titanic too recently and have a surplus of Vitamin C, a cruise. Assuming it actually takes you somewhere new and not just to Alaska or Cabo.
When done correctly, travel, like love, is active. And activity makes the heart grow fonder, much more so than television and the same ten square miles of the world.
A humorous response to a Quora question. Don’t take this too seriously.