Hog-Tied Romance, Planetary Annihilation, and the Invention of Civilization: How to Tell Someone You Love Them Without Committing a War Crime — An Essay on Communication

Did you know that “huh” is the oldest word we know? And, along with “Mah,” one of the only two words common to all languages? Or kind of?

And you've probably used both quite frequently when you saw that claim up there. You went all: “Huh, is that right?” And you probably had to utter some variant of “But mah, if you don’t give me the money, I won’t get my heroin, and then the spiders will return 🙁” this week. Am I right?

I was really rooting for “fuck” as the oldest word. And no, “Fornication Under Consent of the King” or “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge” are not what “fuck” means. Get over yourself. The thing we have to remember is that “fuck” is useful as… well, fuck, and so versatile. Sadly, it can’t be used in polite company. Fuckers.

Oh, language. So fundamental, so deeply useful, the magical instrument of communication, so fucking flawed.

Think about it. Right now, you’re vividly hallucinating my voice while you read my words, and that is being turned into thought. Reading is crazy, is what I’m saying, and don’t even get me started on spoken language! Like, have you considered how limited your thoughts would be if you didn’t know a language? How much your personality changes when you switch from your first to your second or third?

But that's exactly the problem: so many layers, so many things that can go wrong.

Think about it. A perfectly normal sentence like… “Oh no, you fucking dumbass!” This can be a straight insult, a joke, or something very tender. The actual meaning of the sentence depends on your tone, the way you deliver it, your body language, and the full context of your relationship with the recipient. Conversely, you can turn “I love you” into the worst insult someone has ever heard in exactly the same way. And that makes language kinda messy, you know? Like, maybe we should give up on the whole communication thing and move to more productive endeavours, like watching paint dry.

And here comes the second layer of crazy: when I want to tell you something, something simple like “I really appreciate your reading my pieces,” something almost alchemical is going on, because whatever mental glyph you use to signify “I” in your mind is absolutely unique, I'm sure of it. Same goes for appreciation. Same goes for every word. We turn emotion into thought and then thought into word, and we standardize what is almost completely diverse.

The word “love” is probably one of, if not the most important word in all of language. And yet, the experience of love, this tragedy I’m going through right now, is perfectly unique to every person.

I know it because I’ve seen it. Maybe the feeling is always the same—how the fuck am I supposed to know? But the reaction? The results? The behaviour? Absolutely unique.

I know it because love, for me, has brought a lot of weird emotions and has surfaced a lot of trauma. It’s like every bad past relationship has become manifest, and I’ve been incredibly sensitive. And you know how weird that is? Me acting sensitive and a little insecure and confused? But that’s the point. Society is, in itself, built upon communication. Love is a language. So is violence. And so is the economy. Sex? Language.

So when you dream about hog-tying the woman you love and doing unspeakably tender yet dirty things to her, you’re actually writing poetry. You’re not fucking sick, you’re freaking Neruda. And if you tell her, “I’m gonna hug you so hard, I’m gonna crush you so hard, I’m gonna reach your Schwarzschild radius, and you will become a singularity, a beautiful singularity, and destroy the whole planet!” she knows—or should know—that you’re not actually threatening to destroy all life on Earth, just very much in love and craving closeness.

And I really hope she knows. And this is where I’m gonna make my point: I have told this all-important—to me—person some really crazy things in our time together. I have suggested murdering her, butchering her, cooking her, marrying her, and having her children, and let’s not forget all the fucking Neruda. And it seems like she understands that I’m just playfully letting her know about my feelings for her. In one of the healthiest conversations of my whole life, we landed on: “I will express my feelings for you in constructive ways. No more weird murder fantasies and definitely no more fucking Neruda.”

So, if a traumatized mess like me can bridge a communication gap and find a new love language, exactly how much hope is there for us? As a species? As a society? Well, very little. Why? Because good communication requires willingness, and a significant part of all communication is not conducted in good faith.

Most people listen to you just the bare minimum to confirm that you’re thinking or feeling what they think you should think or feel. And that’s if you’re dealing with someone who has no ill feelings toward you. What happens when you’re trying to communicate with someone who really, really doesn’t like you? Everything you just said is nil until you say something that can be used against you, and then, obviously, mayhem. Speaking of Mayhem, what is Euronymous up to? Still dead? Go figure.

So, before we give up on communication, society, and the whole human experience, let’s try and find a silver lining. We’re all mortal, so in the end all our suffering will finish? Yeah, that’s not a silver lining. Let’s try this:

Every attempt at communication—whether it’s directed at the person you love, your family, your friends, your enemies, some hostile government you want to bomb, some really hostile government you want to nuke, or just an Uber driver who is clearly driving around to pad the bill—is worth it. Because the day our first caveman forefather decided to deliver an insult, probably something about sex with goats, instead of throwing a rock, he invented civilization. And we must keep that hallowed tradition alive because violence serves no one but herself.

The title “civilized” is something we must fight our worst instincts to keep. We have to earn it every day in a world where people brake suddenly and make you spill the orange juice you drove across town to get. Neighbors dead set on becoming your friends and gossiping about you at the same time. People who pontificate about things they don’t understand and, in general, humans being both human and difficult.

In a world filled with as many experiences, stories, and languages as there are people, my invitation to you is to make a conscious, sustained effort to actually communicate. Not look like you are. Not say you’re trying. A real, actual effort to get through to others and allow your fellow humans to get through to you. Because that’s the greatest contribution you can make to the search for world peace, for harmony, for goodwill between all humans.

Huh? You say. Exactly.

Now call your Mah.

Happy Halloween.