Kevin's Love Language

Kevin's primary love language is service. An oft-quoted Jeff Foxworthy quote in our house is, "I did it for you, sweet pea." 

If I ask Kevin to do something, he will do it--either right then or by setting a reminder on his phone. He has his tasks that he does without fail around the house, because I don't like to, such as taking out the trash and killing bugs. When one or both of us is angry, he cleans the kitchen. Actually, he cleans the kitchen a lot now that I'm in school. When he's on a call where he's not needed, he brings his computer downstairs and washes dishes while he listens. It's his way of showing support for me during my busy semesters. He folds the laundry at bed times, and he tries to fix things that inconvenience me. 

He also views his job as a service he performs out of love for me and our family. He puts in stupid hours of work to make our lives comfortable, to provide stability and safety. It is a matter of no small pride for him. And in my mind I understand that.

However.

My top two love languages are touch and quality time. For me, when he is working, I do not feel loved. I feel forgotten. For one thing, he is constantly compartmentalizing. If it's not front and center, it's not in his head. So, I am, in truth, forgotten. And I have struggled with this for more years than we have been married. 

Quality time is not one of his love languages.

When he sits down on the couch with his legs up and a computer on his lap, I feel ignored and slighted. I call it his fortress of solitude. While the kids can still watch him play computer games by crouching by the armrest or laying across the back of the couch, I am held at a literal and figurative distance. With his headphones on, he is in a different world, where I cannot come. And I hate it.

We do not do anything together. We do not make dinner together, fold clothes, grocery shop, exercise, work in the yard, go walking, or anything else together. We do plenty of things for each other, and we both express gratitude and appreciation, even for the routine things, like taking out the garbage and making the kids' lunches. But we don't do anything together.

We don't go to the temple together. We take turns. We don't go on dates. We don't read scriptures or pray together just us, one-on-one; though we are good at doing it every day with the kids. We don't get ready together, or even go to bed and wake up at the same time. We exist independently.

It has gotten better since he started working from home. I, at least, get to see him when he breaks for food or to fill me in on the inanities of his office politics. I drop by his office to update on my day as well. For him, filling me in on work projects and deadlines while he's microwaving chicken is quality time. If he gets to talk about scriptures, that's even better. 

But then he puts on his headphones at the end of the day, and I go to bed alone.