Refelctions on Love Languages: The Gift of Giving and Receiving

I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to The Five Love Languages, which, by the way, I think are spot on. If you are in a place where you have a significant other or kids, I highly suggest getting to know their love language. For me, hands down, my love language is receiving gifts. If you’re not familiar with the five love languages, then click here. I know for my wife, it’s quality time.

This got me thinking as I looked inward: Why is mine receiving gifts? And why did I choose the picture I did to illustrate this blog? I’m really reflecting on myself here. One thing I’ve come to understand quickly is that sometimes we try to project our own love language onto others. Does my wife like gifts? Sure—her favorite is probably the surprise coffee drink I bring home for her while running errands. However, she much prefers quality time with me, with physical touch coming in second.

Thinking about this, I realized I grew up in a home where needs were met but there wasn’t an abundance. I always admired my neighbor friend’s dad, who would occasionally give him a $20 bill and who seemed to have a lot of stuff. We had toys, of course, and I vividly remember the Christmas when we unwrapped the brand new Atari 2600 (yes, I’m showing my age!). But extras like that weren’t common.

There are two distinct memories from childhood that stand out regarding bikes. Growing up on garage sale banana seat bikes, I really wanted a new bike but never got one. One Christmas, my brother got a brand new Raleigh single-speed bike sitting in the living room by the Christmas tree, but there was no bike for me. Even though I was maybe 4 or 5 years old, that memory has been seared into my mind.

The other time was when my dad took my brother to Ware’s Bicycle Store in Wauwatosa and they each got a brand new 10-speed bike. I got a used banana seat bike from a garage sale. Sure, I could do some tricks on my banana seat bike that other kids did on BMX bikes, but it was out of necessity for a 9-year-old. I even attempted some big jumps—until I stuck a landing wrong and broke the neck on the bike because, well, they weren’t really made for that.

Admittedly, that ordeal with my brother and dad both getting new road bikes is also etched in my memory. As sad as it was for them, I found some quiet satisfaction one morning when we came out to the garage and saw their bikes had been stolen right out of our garage. Guess what bike was still there? My banana seat bike. Getting a new bike for them had been exciting, but if I blew a tire or needed a repair on mine, I was reprimanded for not taking care of it.

However, there came a day as a young teen when I finally got my first brand new bike. I was so excited. We got in the car, and my parents said we were going to get the bike at American TV. “Crazy TV Lenny” was promoting a microwave sale where you could “GET A BIKE, GET A BIKE, GET A BIKE!” Essentially, by default, I was getting this bike because my parents bought a microwave. It was a Frenzi 10-speed. That bike lasted a while—until my friend plowed into me while I was stopped at a corner and completely bent the back rim. The bike sat in the garage for the rest of that season.

I think that’s why I am the way I am today. My kids know I’m a soft touch when we go out. If they ask for something, I usually spring for it. If we’re at the gas station and they ask for a snack—not only will I get one, but each kid will get one. My dad was the type of guy who would go across the street to the Beer Depot, grab a soda, and drink it in front of me. Mom let him have it on those occasions.

As for my wife, she knows if she mentions something she wants, I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. This was true when her first favorite car was a Beetle—I found one from a friend and got it for her (kind of bad timing on my part though with a growing family). At one point, her favorite car was the PT Cruiser. She set the bar pretty low on that, which made it very attainable for me as I used the Beetle as a trade-in. So, one birthday, she opened the garage door, and there sat a used red PT Cruiser with a bow on it. When we had a third kid on the way, I knew the minivan I was driving wasn’t her favorite. So I traded in my pickup, sold the minivan, and got a Kia Sorento with third-row seating. I took over driving the PT Cruiser, which had high mileage and had gone through a bad crash, because I wanted my wife to be safe commuting to Appleton.

The time came when it was time to get her a different car. She liked the Chevy Trax from a commercial she saw. I test drove it and thought it was garbage, so I tried the Trailblazer instead. It had everything she hoped for—heated seats, AWD and a backup camera. I was driving a high-mileage Chevy HHR, so I traded towards a brand new Chevy Trailblazer. The kids and I drove it to her work, swapped out the plates, and parked it where her Kia used to be. We put a big bow on it and sat in a neighboring parking spot for probably an hour or two in the Kia on a very cold night, watching a movie on my iPad while we waited for her. When she finally came out, after many hospital staff walked by and admired it, she audibly said, “IT’S RED!”

So, where am I going with all of this? I’ve never been on the receiving end of grand gestures like that, and that’s okay. Us guys tend to be pickier about what we want, and I understand the stress it can add for someone to pick out a random gift like a car, motorcycle, etc. Much of what we do and who we are flows from our love language. Again, none of the love languages are bad. In my case, I love receiving gifts—but if that’s what I do for someone who would rather have quality time, I’m just spinning my wheels (no pun intended) in most cases. Each love language is just as valuable as the other, so I now try to focus on those things.

So, what’s the deal with the football game picture? Another memory seared into my mind. One time, my brother got an electronic handheld football game—one of those classic green ones with little red LEDs as players. One night, after many failed attempts, he wouldn’t let me play it. Finally, my dad said, “Bob, get in the car—we’re going to get your own!” I couldn’t believe it—a just-because toy! We went to Mayfair Mall and to Kay-Bee Toys, where I picked one out. I thought it was the best day ever—a just-because toy, and it was football. I found this picture online and is the exact one I picked out that day. For a kid whose love language is receiving gifts, I’ll never forget that day.