I got a mighty shock last week when someone, as we parted after chatting, sang out “Love you!” in a sort of up and down, bubbly, happy tone. It wasn’t the jollity which alarmed me – that was quite nice, if a little forced – but the proclamation of love. I’d only met the person about four times before, and it takes more than that for me to develop affections for people. Inwardly I grumbled, what’s wrong with goodbye, but outwardly I smiled sunnily back.
You see, when I am leaving a conversation, I go for a few stock, standard phrases.
It was nice to see you.
It was lovely to see you.
See you soon.
Text me when you get home! (this one is reserved for the end of nights out with friends, after wine may have been imbibed)
Never have I declared, “love you!”
I’m not complaining too much, honestly. The opposite freaks me out more. ”Hate you!” relayed in a sing-song timbre. Now that, would be downright weird.
Read the first chapter of my crime thriller novel Black Milk plus synopsis here