Love and affection are related but distinct.

I may say I love you because I feel a certain warmth when I think about you. But is that love? It might be a signal of love, a subset of love—but not love itself.

I spoke to a cousin recently. His mother often says she loves her grandson. Yet, despite these professions of love, she hasn’t visited him once in the past year.

Is that love?

I fully trust she feels deep affection for him. But does that feeling transmute into action? Does it manifest in any way that impacts the object of her so-called love?

This is a version of conditional love—a love of convenience. When her grandson is around, she showers him with care, touch, and home-cooked meals. But when he’s far away? When loving him requires effort? The expressions of love evaporate.

the language problem

One of the greatest failures of the English language is the word love.

It's a blunt instrument, meaning too many things at once. I love pizza. I love my dog. I love my mom. I love myself. I love that show. I love that celebrity. I love you.

Why do we use the same word for all of these?

When a new friend says "I love you", I have to resist an eye-roll. You love me? Without knowing me? Will you love me when I’m inconvenient or difficult?

I've shared this skepticism with friends, and they protest:
"But I love telling people I love them! It’s totally valid to express a feeling, a welling inside, to someone."

I get it. It’s a pleasantry. A way of saying, I feel good around you.

But—stay with me here—throwing "I love you" around like that feels... flippant. Maybe even reckless.

love, but make it weird

Let’s change the setting. You’re having sex (yay for you!) with someone you’ve recently started dating. You like them. You’re still getting to know them. Mid-moment, they say:

"I love you."

Whoa. Mic drop.

Your stomach flips. The mood shifts. Even if you like them, something about hearing it feels off.

Why?

Because we take those words seriously in this context. We assume they mean something real—commitment, sacrifice, a future.

So why don’t we feel uncomfortable when someone casually drops "I love you" at a party?

This isn’t a rhetorical question. I don’t have the answer. But I feel the contradiction, and that feeling is worth exploring.

be impeccable with your word

Don Miguel Ruiz’s first agreement is "Be impeccable with your word."

What if we applied that to love?

Instead of tossing out "I love you" as a reflex, what if we used words that actually fit the moment?

"I love our connection."
"I’m excited to hang out."
"I really want to get to know you better."
"I like your vibe."

And if you do say "I love you", can you follow it with action?

If we lived in a totalitarian Grammarian Government, I’d join the Grammar Police and fine people every time they said "I love you" without meaning it. I’d be one of those annoying meter maids, thought-policing your every expression.

In all seriousness, I’m not here to tell you how to speak. But here’s my invitation:

Next time you want to say "I love you," pause. Explore that feeling. Ask yourself:

• Does my love show up in action, or just words?
• If I don’t love them deeply, is there a more precise phrase I could use?
• How can I be impeccable with my word?

You may find yourself relating to expression in a whole new way.