I love you man!

The other week, I was drinking with a couple friends. It must have made an interesting sight- three fat older guys in semi-conservative suits, telling jokes and pounding back pitchers of beer in the early afternoon as if we were still college students. We were all done with court for the day and were blowing off steam. We were also escaping from the heat outside. In Imperial County, it's hot five to six months out of the year.

It's probably true that alcohol isn't the best thing to drink on a 100 plus degree day because it dehydrates you, but somehow a very cold pitcher of beer always refreshes. The waitress kept the cold pitchers of beer coming and the mostly deserted restaurant echoed with our laughter and stories of court.

Then conversation turned to friendship and one of us made a point of saying that we were the truest friends that he had. He looked at us earnestly and said "I love you guys."

There was a uncomfortable pause before my second friend seconded the notion, saying something vague enough to be manly, but yet specific enough to make the point. He said "I don't really have friends like you guys."

Then they turned to me, expectantly. I didn't quite know what to say. I've never really been one of those "I love you, man" guys. It's not that I don't care about my friends, but I've never been too expressive with words. I mean, what are words compared to actions?

"I'd appreciate you guys more if you'd shut up and let me drink my beer," I said.

I've wondered since if my reaction was wrong. Should I have been more like the "I love you man" guy? Are we better off if we express our emotions plainly or does it cheapen those emotions? At every party with alcohol, there is at least one "I love you guy." Sometimes what he is says is true, most times it isn't. My wife met an "I love you girl" who proclaimed that my wife, who she had just met hours earlier, was her "soul sister."

I think it's not necessary to be overly expressive when your actions make the point for you.

Neither my brother nor my father said "I love you", when they drove 200 miles at midnight during my senior year to pick me up in Los Angeles, where I'd driven my car to the point of breaking down. Neither of them had to say it- it was enough that my butt was being driven home.

But, given the realities of perceptions and such, let me just say to all of my friends out there:

I love you man!