“Talk is cheap.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what they say. I know what everyone says.
But me, I like that cheap stuff. I like being told I’m beautiful, interesting, funny. I love when a lover digs my mind and body — and most important, I like when they let me know.
It’s always made me kind of an easy mark. Because it’s easy for someone disingenuous to say something and not follow through. To sprinkle compliments like fairy dust. And meanwhile, their actions are more insidious.
Or non-existent.
I had one relationship coast along for much longer than it should have — simply because he knew how to talk to me. Because he could tell me all the things I wanted to hear.
And it’s funny. Because his actions would go on to betray his actual intentions. Everything would come crashing down later. But up until then, up until that exact moment, I felt wonderful. I _felt _like he loved me.
The flipside is also true. A person can have every good intention in the world and be prepared to silently move heaven and Earth for me. But if they don’t say nice things — readily, freely, creatively — then I won’t feel it.
I’ll be able to explain it to myself, talk through it. Build a convincing case, intellectually, that they must care for me. That things are good.
But those aren’t the kinds of factors that make me feel it deep inside. That I’m loved and cherished.
I’m a dope this way. But I’ve tried for years, and I’m not sure it’s ever going to change.
If talk is cheap, that means actions are expensive. Really damn expensive. But the reality is, for better or worse, I don’t have expensive tastes. I crave the cheap stuff. I need it.