Today, I had a startling insight. My love language isn’t gifts. It’s quality time and words – unhurried conversation and words of affirmation. The type of conversation where you’re falling asleep, but I keep plying you with coffee because I’m enjoying your company so much. My attraction for a person seems directly proportional to the quality of our conversation.

Words make me happy. Material things don’t fill me with joy (with the exception of my sneakers :)). Experiences fill me with joy instead. That’s why I travel. That’s why I love traveling with people I like.

I hate clutter and choice confuses me. I want just one black bag, not two. But, the challenge with gifting me a bag is, “How would you know which one I like?” There’s a 50-50 chance it may be the wrong choice. And my OCD will keep bugging me, until I give it away.

I have a feeling that l will be that wife whose husband just gives the credit card, so she can buy the gift herself. And I definitely won’t refuse getaway trips:).