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By Sarah Belisamu
If relationships came with subtitles, most of our problems would disappear.
Instead, we’re left guessing—reading tone, filling in gaps, and occasionally realising far too late that “that’s not what they meant at all.”
What’s strange is… we already understand this dynamic.
We’ve watched it play out for years.
Just not in our own lives.
Watch almost any sitcom—Friends, The Office, Parks and Recreation—and you’ll see the same pattern over and over:
People care about each other.
They just express it completely differently.
And somehow, that difference is where all the confusion—and most of the meaning—lives.
The One Who Needs to Hear It
Take Chandler Bing.
Underneath the sarcasm, when it matters, he says what he feels. He reassures. He puts things into words.
For people like this, words aren’t extra—they’re essential.
You can show up every day, do all the right things, and still leave them unsure if you never actually say it.
It’s not insecurity.
It’s translation.
The One Who Just… Stays
Then there’s Pam Beesly.
She’s not always expressive. She doesn’t dominate conversations about feelings. But she’s there—consistently, quietly, without making it a performance.
For some people, love looks like presence.
Time isn’t interchangeable. Attention isn’t something you squeeze in later.
If you’re always distracted, always half-available, they don’t feel loved—even if you insist you care.
Because for them, love shows up as time.
The One Who Does, Instead of Says
Think of Monica Geller.
She plans, fixes, prepares, anticipates. She shows love by making life run better.
People like this won’t always sit down and explain how much they care.
But they’ll prove it—over and over—in ways that are easy to overlook if you’re not paying attention.
And that’s where things go wrong.
One person is thinking:
“I do everything for them.”
The other is thinking:
“Why don’t they ever say anything?”
Both are right.
And both feel unseen.
The One Who Connects Through Touch
Then there’s Joey Tribbiani—exaggerated, sure, but still pointing to something real.
For some people, affection is physical.
Closeness, touch, that sense of being near someone—it’s how they connect, and how they feel secure.
You can talk all day, send thoughtful messages, say the right things…
But without that physical reassurance, something feels off.
Not broken. Just… distant.
The One Who Notices Everything
And then you get someone like Leslie Knope.
She remembers details. Celebrates small moments. Goes out of her way to make people feel seen.
This kind of love isn’t loud—it’s intentional.
It shows up as:
- “I saw this and thought of you”
- remembering something you mentioned once, weeks ago
- small gestures that say you matter enough to remember
And for people like this, that thoughtfulness is the message.
So Why Does This Matter?
Because most relationship problems don’t start with a lack of care.
They start with misalignment.
Two people, both trying—just in ways the other doesn’t instinctively recognise.
So you get:
- “I do so much, and they don’t notice”
- “I tell them how I feel, but it doesn’t land”
- “We spend time together, but something still feels missing”
It’s not that the love isn’t there.
It’s that it’s being spoken in different languages.
The Part That’s Easy to Miss
It’s easy to read all of this and think about someone else.
But the more useful question is:
What do you default to when you care about someone?
And maybe more importantly:
What do you expect back?
Most of us don’t realise we’re doing this.
We assume our way is the obvious way.
The standard.
It isn’t.
If you’ve never actually put a name to your own pattern, something like a simple love language test can be a useful starting point—not as a definition, but as a mirror.
You Don’t Have to Change Who You Are
The fix isn’t becoming someone else.
It’s learning to stretch.
A little.
If someone needs words, say them—even if it feels unnecessary to you.
If they value time, protect it like it matters—because to them, it does.
If they notice actions, keep showing up in ways they can see and feel.
That’s not pretending.
That’s translating.
Sarah Balisamu is a self-proclaimed dropout from the University of Life, with a lifelong curiosity about human behavior, relationships, and the small misunderstandings that shape how we connect. A devoted watcher of sitcoms and an observer of everyday quirks, she writes about the humor, heart, and lessons hidden in the ordinary moments of love and life.
