Health for life

I dont really care for Valentines Day.

You know how it goes. The heavy pressure on that romantic aspect of our lives, that may or may not, live up to "Sense and Sensibility" expectations. The courting, the chocolates, the flowers, the glittery stuff. The "proposals" and declarations. Bah. Humbug. It was enough to make some of my dearest friends... joyfully declare their mood of choice for the holiday, by getting creative on Facebook...

(I have to admit, since I also dislike romance novels, I thoroughly enjoyed this little creation.)

So... though I do the usual, quiet penance at home with the husband, I cant say I focus very much on Valentines Day. I certainly dont think of walking away with any sort of "wordless Wednesday lessons," if you would. Whats to learn? Materialism? Impossible-to-live-to expectations? Yeah, so one would think. (I dont even have any kids, so I cant make this post about them! lol)

Often, though, life quietly speaks to us in its own way... especially when our hearts are open, and not just open to diamonds, or chocolates, and other distractions and materialisms, but open to whats TRULY being expressed... by fate? God? The universe? Your own inner self? Perhaps. But, maybe... Just maybe... Valentines Day needs to be a bit more "selfish" than it already is, you see. Valentines Day should be about the one love that actually matters more than almost any love out there: self love. Yes, not the kind of self love that goes around expecting what can I get from others... but the kind of self love that goes around expecting what can I get from MYSELF. 

The little image, above... the heart made of wholesome food. That was IT. That was all Valentines Day had to give me, yesterday. And it gave me a LOT; more than I could have imagined. A random posting of sorts, shared by a stranger, with entirely different intentions.

Food is love.

For me, food has always been love (even though I sort of dislike food). Just, perhaps, not the right kind of love.

Like any other person struggling with binge eating, and disordered eating, I tend to, unwittingly, look for love in food. I tend to want to FEEL things from the food I eat -- comfort, enjoyment, numbing of bad feelings, friendship, avoidance of issues, appeasing of bad memories, etc, etc. Often, Ive tried, again and again, to replace the love that others would not give me, or the missing attention from parents... with food, or bury whatever awful life traumas, underneath it.

Often, this is termed "When Food is Love."

Recently, though, Ive been quietly asking myself... what if I can just change that definition around? What if food can still be love, but, from a different angle?

The image above gave me the answer. It almost literally screamed it:

"You can do more than just THINK youre getting emotional support from food... you can actually LOVE YOURSELF with food. Good food. Quality food... HEALTHY FOOD. To show yourself love with proper nourishment is the purest form of self love... Be very selfish with it. Do not abuse it, and do not entrust it to just any food. Treasure it."

When we thoroughly manage our health and give ourselves quality foods that make us FEEL healthy, able bodied, and able minded, capable of taking on the world, of thinking, and making proper decisions... When we give ourselves foods that dont just fuel our bodies, but make our hearts sing because they are wholesome and tasty, and FULFILLING, and in more than just temporary emotions we might feel... But also in HEALTHY emotions we may anticipate because weve put effort into making such meals, and invested in ourselves, as we would in our children... We are literally, feeding ourselves love. We ARE our children. We ARE our loved ones.

Its not a diet, its not a "healthy lifestyle..." It is SELF LOVE. It is simply... Loving Yourself.  

Work on loving yourself, today. Youll be glad you did.

Every Saturday, we post a piece from the CHG archives. This one comes from March 2009. Enjoy!

Up until a few years ago, the list of foods I loathed was a long one. It included, but wasn’t limited to: spaghetti squash, broccoli, asparagus, red cabbage, ginger ale, cauliflower, radishes, lentils, beans, Brussels sprouts, fennel, eggplant, anise, scallops, figs, and of course, the dreaded mayonnaise. The list goes on (and on), but you get the idea: growing up, I wasn’t exactly a daring eater.

I still hate mayo. I will ALWAYS hate mayo. George Clooney could serve me mayo wrapped in chocolate bacon on a gold-plated re-issue of Who’s Next, and I would throw it back in his face. But my opinion’s changed on most of those other foods. These days, I’ll gladly scarf a floret of cauliflower. Brussels sprouts hold a special place on my dinner table. And eggplant? Well, eggplant is my favorite thing ever, aside from the panda song from Sifl and Olly. (In fact, you could say I’m drunk on eggplant mystery.)

Granted, part of it is just me aging. At 31-years-old, my palate’s matured a little, and my tastes now lean more toward savory than sweet. The other part, though, can be directly attributed to recent changes in my lifestyle.

See, a few years ago, I resolved to learn to cook, to eat healthier, and to better manage my money. As it turned out, vegetables and legumes were vital to making this work, since they’re exponentially cheaper than meat and much more nutritious than most starches. So, I had to confront my fears. I had to expand my produce repertoire beyond corn, carrots, corn, and carrots.

These strategies helped. I learned to tolerate, and even love, a lot of foods I had longstanding issues with. Try ‘em for yourself, and please add your own suggestions to the comment section.

Make it unrecognizable.
Case study: Eggplant
Seedy, mushy, and horrifically purple, eggplant appealed to me about as much as a drug-free colonoscopy. Then, in 1997, my friend H hid it in her homemade tomato sauce. And … revelation. Soon, I was on to eggplant dips, eggplant pastas, and finally, plain ol’ broiled eggplant. The trick was getting the image of the vegetable out of my head, and forcing me to associate it with otherwise good food. I suspect it would work beautifully with any vegetable that could be pureed or furtively included in a sauce (butternut squash, bell peppers, etc.).

Use it in a recipe with foods you love.
Case study: Brussels sprouts
As far as I was concerned, Brussels sprouts were tiny, bitter cabbages that masochists ate when they ran out of bigger bitter cabbages. Little did I know that slathering them in Parmesan would provide a delicious gateway into healthier, simpler preparations. See also: Red Cabbage (ew) with Honey (nice), Apples (yay!), and Bacon (king of cured meats). Its actually quite scrumptious.

Try it in an ethnic dish.
Case study: Broccoli
Broccoli: looks like trees, tastes like butt, right? Yeah, I used to think like that, too. But in high school, Ma ordered Chicken and Broccoli from our local Chinese joint, Da How. Suddenly, it was broccoli: looks like trees, tastes like HEAVEN (with garlic and brown sauce). Sometimes, a food is more appealing when its paired with flavors you’re not necessarily accustomed to. Like bean sprouts on top of Pad Thai. Or peas stuffed in a samosa. Or tomatillo sauce spread across an enchilada. Pick a cuisine and start experimenting.

Cook the best-reviewed recipe you can find featuring that food.
Case study: Cauliflower
Most aggregate recipe sites like Epicurious, Food Network, and All Recipes have sophisticated rating systems with which home cooks can evaluate any dish. If you’re feeling ambitious, plug an ingredient into one of their search engines. Then, prep the recipe with the best overall reviews. For example, Ina Garten has a Cauliflower Gratin that’s received an average of five stars from 132 people (which is outstanding). I’ve tried it myself, and without exaggeration, it changed the way I felt about cauliflower. I just … I just didn’t know it could taste that good. Now, stuff like Roasted Garlic Cauliflower and Curried Cauliflower Soup with Honey are making regular appearances in my mouth.

Understand you don’t have to eat it the way your Ma (or Pa) prepared it.
Case study: Spaghetti Squash
Across the country, millions of Irish-Americans loathe vegetables because growing up, produce was boiled beyond recognition and then forced by threat of death into their reluctant maws. But take heart, my freckled brethren! It doesn’t have to be this way. Did you know carrots can be roasted? And broccoli rabe, sauteed? And spaghetti squash, combined with red sauce, mozzarella, and pine nuts to create something COMPLETELY DELICIOUS? It’s true. So, love your Gaelic Ma. Embrace her. Call her often. Just … try to forget her cooking. It’ll make this whole process much easier.

Try a dish with a subtler incarnation of that food.
Case study: Tarragon
This one’s a little difficult to explain, so here’s an example: I despise anise. Even thinking about its black licorice flavor makes my tongue curl. Recently though, I discovered a White Bean and Tarragon Soup that I quite like. Tarragon, like fennel, possesses traits similar to anise, but it’s much, much subtler. In the soup, it was complemented so well by the other ingredients, I didn’t even taste the hate. Maybe Ill feel the same way about anise someday. Think of this principle like salsa: you start out mild, and work your way up to medium and hot varieties.

Give it just one more shot.
Case study: Beans
For some inexplicable reason, I always assumed I hated beans. As a kid, they looked funny to me. And in my six-year-old brain, funny-looking food = bad food. It wasn’t until I grew up, sacked up, ate one and didn’t throw up, that they became a regular part of my diet. (Okay, hummus helped.)

If you truly hate it, let it go.
Case studies: scallops, figs, radishes, mayo
Scallops will never be my thing, no matter how fresh they are, how well they’ve been prepared, and how many times I try them. Figs, radishes, mayonnaise – still disgusting, as well. (Which, did I mention I hate mayonnaise? I did? Oh, good.) Sometimes, a certain food just won’t do it for you. And it’s okay. Just move on to the next one.

And that’s it. Readers? Suggestions?

~~~

If you like this article, you might also dig

• Picky, Picky: Frugal, Healthy Menu Ideas for a Fussy Crowd
• 10 Foods You Should Always Splurge On
• Touch of Class: 10 Thrifty, Healthy Ingredients to Improve the Quality of Your Meals

I don’t feel like I’m eating vegetables if I’m not eating leafy greens. Though corn will always be number one in my heart, greens are my favorite everyday vegetable. Depending on the variety, you’ll find vitamins A, C, E, and K, along with iron, calcium, magnesium, manganese, and folate in significant quantities per serving of leafy green. (If you’re concerned about calcium, forget the yogurt and make yourself a batch of collard greens.)

When it comes to the leafies, I’m not picky, though if you pin me down I’ll choose Swiss chard for its brightly colored stems and delicate flavor. The half-Southerner in me loves collards and turnip greens too; and I’ll always delight in a dish with kale or an arugula salad.

I was craving the hearty bite of kale when I picked up a bunch mustard greens last week at the market. The lighter green and less hefty leaves were stashed under the “kale” label. A few glances around the produce section indicated the store was out of kale and trying to trick me with mustard greens; so I went with it.

I sautéed my unintended take in my usual olive oil, onion, garlic way. The resulting side dish was far from a disaster, but it came out more bitter (bitterer) than I recall mustard greens being. They weren’t dandelion greens, people.

A few days later, I remembered Lidia Bastianich’s method for taking the edge off broccoli rabe, which is to let the veg simmer in water for a few minutes after a quick sauté. What if I applied this technique to mustard greens?

A miracle. With a smidge of smoked paprika (or liquid smoke) for that Southern flavor, mustard greens have never tasted better. CB and I had them with our Middle Eastern tapas plate and I’ve had them again with lunch for a few days. They just keep getting better.

This little adventure has inspired me to learn new (and proper?) ways of cooking vegetables, especially greens. I filled up my library hold list with vegetable-specific cookbooks this week in anticipation, so, look out for more straight-up veg from me in the coming months. And, if you have any tips for cooking greens, give me a shout in the comments. I’m always looking for new excuses to buy kale.

~~~~

If this recipe floats your boat, paddle on over to:

• Collard Greens and Black-eyed Peas
• Sweet Potato and Swiss Chard Soup
• Kale and Root Vegetable Salad

~~~

Smokey Mustard Greens
Serves 4
Inspired by Lidia Bastianich’s Broccoli Rabe with Oil and Garlic


16 ounces mustard greens (about 8 cups), washed, woody stems removed, and torn
2 teaspoon olive oil
1 small onion
6 cloves garlic
1/8 to 1/4 cup water
1 teaspoons smoked paprika
1 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon black pepper

1) In a large heavy bottomed skillet, like cast iron, sauté onion in oil for two minutes until soft. Add garlic, paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir and cook for one more minute.

2) Add mustard greens by the handful, stirring until they are coated with spices and begin to wilt.

3) Once all greens have been added to the pan, add water, cover, and simmer for about five minutes. Remove cover and cook one or two more minutes.

4) Serve alongside any entree, but don’t be surprised if the greens are the star of the meal.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price per Serving
60 calories, 2.3g fat, 4g fiber, 4g protein, $.48

Calculations
16 ounces mustard greens: 112 calories, 0g fat, 16g fiber, 16g protein, $1.49
2 teaspoons olive oil: 79.2 calories, 9.24g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.05
1 small onion: 20 calories, 0.1g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.25
6 cloves garlic: 24 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.07
1 teaspoons smoked paprika: negligible calories, fat, fiber, protein, $.02
1 teaspoons salt: negligible calories, fat, fiber, protein, $.02
1 tablespoon black pepper: negligible calories, fat, fiber, protein, $.02
TOTALS: 235 calories, 9.25g fat, 16g fiber, 16g protein, $1.92
PER SERVING (TOTALS/4): 60 calories, 2.3g fat, 4g fiber, 4g protein, $.48

The day I lost my car... I became an avid pedestrian. Every local place became THE place to go for any goods and services. I really didnt want to lose my car, but the many months of being sick and at home, on leave from work and with no paycheck, left me struggling to make ends meet -- and well, car payments were not a priority. I let the car go.

Then shortly thereafter, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. November 17th, 2009.

I thus began to get acquainted with a certain place a lot more often than I would have liked. A certain pharmacy. God, I hate pharmacies. I hate their smell, I hate their lights, I hate the waiting... and the lectures you get every time you get your prescription illed as if you hadnt heard them before for like the billionth time. Ive also never cared for the chit-chat. You know, the chit-chat cashiers always give you when youre ready to go. Im sort of this anti-social who just wants to grab the crap she needs, and be on her way. No eye contact, no talking... bah humbug.

But, alas, there was Sally. (Sally is not her real name.)

Sally loves and loves to talk. Sally is very social. Sally always has something to say, and engages well with customers. Sally loves talking a little too much with her customers. I think she may have even gotten a bit in trouble for it before. Its not easy to leave Sallys side, by the register. Heck, she sometimes even comes over to you while youre in the isle to talk to you while you shop! Shes always full of stories -- about the weather, about how things used to be in Ames, about her cat, about how things used to be in her hometown, about whats on sale, about what the best and most addicting snacks are, about her younger years when she used to have a career in social work, etc. Needless to say, Sally is very annoying.

Some days, when Rod and I used to go into the pharmacy together, wed find ways to try and avoid Sally -- especially if we were in a hurry. Sometimes, wed just want to shop in peace. Sometimes, we might have even gone to a different place altogether. But... in Iowa, politeness reigns. If we failed avoiding her, wed still listen to Sally. Conversation began to get so involved... that now wed be telling Sally our own woes.

Sally knew when I had no job or when I was underemployed with few hours, or when we were sick; when we had many, many struggles. Sally has often given us career advice, and even advocated for us.

In 2010, a devastating flood of epic proportions (the last of its kind seen 500 years ago), hit Iowa. It affected the resources and properties of many folk. Our town lost a lot of water mains and pipes, and the water supply became contaminated. The advice was: purchase water, and if youre poor, please go to these local water dispensing sites weve set up. The problem was the water dispensing sites were SO far away, we couldnt get to them. Buses werent going by certain areas either, because of flooding. Rod and I bought what little water we could, but then had no money left over for actual food. (And you know, with type 2 diabetes thats being treated with only diet, thats a rough ride... you have to seriously mind your carbohydrate consumption and you just cant survive on ramen noodles like someone else with a working pancreas could.)

Local Target stores parking lot, during the floods of 2010

I dont recall why we were at the pharmacy that day... but Sally asked about our day, and how we were faring with the floods, and well... we told her our woes, as had become usual. Sally, as it turns out, had been worried about us. Sally took us to the Red Cross -- Sally got us more water, and Sally took us to the supermarket and bought us food. Sally had endeared herself to us. Her quirky little self got into our hearts. She still, would sometimes, annoy the crap out of us... but our appreciation for her glossed over all that stuff. The stuff of being ourselves, squeaky wheels and all.

I dont believe in a god... and I dont believe that god is love. I believe that LOVE is God. I believe WE are God to one another, when we are in need, and our humanity calls... and we respond with love. And that day, when we needed her most, Sally WAS God. Sally helped us see another healthy tomorrow... and not struggle for today. Sally was also... our advocate. Sally KNEW we had type 2 diabetes... Sally RESPONDED to those needs. (WE can be patient advocates to ANYONE with a chronic illness, with their needs, ANY given day of the week. The opportunities are everywhere. Look for them. THIS is also part of advocacy. Being the glue that connects everything... when all else has failed.) 

Now... about a few weeks ago, I started noticing something wrong in my daily trips to the pharmacy. I really didnt see Sally as often, anymore, and she didnt seem as chatty as her usual self, anymore either. She seemed tired, and I thought to myself, "She looks like shes aging pretty fast; she looks a lot older than she was a month ago." (I didnt say anything.) I really had begun to MISS my daily encounters with Sally, and that daily inconvenience of having to stop and talk to her... while in a hurry to God knows where. "Maybe shes just cut back on hours," I had wondered... or maybe shes got a second job...  or maybe she was spending more time with visiting family. (She always spoke fondly of family far away -- or with annoyance -- depending on who the family member was. lol)

But today, walking home from work, I heard a voice yelling at me from a block behind "Why are you walking in such a hurry?! I cant catch up with you!" I stopped, and turned around. I saw it was Sally... and I got a little annoyed that I had to stop, and wait for her... It had been a pretty tiring day for me, and my carpal tunnel was worse for the wear. Sally lives a block from where I live, and she wanted to chat while we walked. Fine, I could entertain this.

She asked me about ME, first. How I was doing... how Rod was doing. How we were coping along with life. She pointed to her new hair cut... and how she wanted it shorter, for its getting so fine these days, its harder to style. I dont really care, but I politely listen anyway... (Ever the eternal Oscar the Grouch.) Then she gently eases into the topic... The chemotherapy has been really hard... and Sally cant manage it anymore. I am one of the special, chosen people in her world, that she has decided to tell... and no one else. Sally only has 4 months left to live.

I politely listen... offer my company... offer to spend time with her when shes stir-crazy at home, if anything. Sally cant drive anymore, which is just the same... because honestly, I still dont have a car. We can ride the bus together, she says. Itll be good. Itll be fun.

I offer to walk her all the way to her place, but she declines. I give her my cell phone number. We say our goodbyes, and I go home. I reach the bathroom, and undress. I break down and cry, and cry... and cry...

I dont know Sallys real name. Ive never asked.

Gentle readers, I’m still crying into my keyboard over the outpouring of generosity you displayed yesterday. Aline’s kitchen is going to be so rad. My heart is bursting, and you will be hugged if we ever meet face-to-face.

Now let me pull myself together so we can talk broc. A few posts ago, I challenged myself to investigate new ways to cook veggies and learn a little about how to prepare them to maximum awesomosity. To this end, I checked out two books from the library: Barbara Kafka’s Vegetable Love and Leanne Kitchen’s The Produce Bible.

I had the pleasure of hearing Ms. Kafka speak about James Beard a couple years ago, and I remembered her witty, charming style, sharing anecdotes about the innovator of American cooking. Vegetable Love has that same easy charm, while maintaining its old-school sensibility, in the manner of Beard and Julia Child, who never met a vegetable that didn’t benefit from a heavy dose of butter, cream, or pork fat. It’s only a cookbook for vegetarians or vegans if you’re okay doing recipe renovation.

But! I love her devotion to classic methods and technique and the book’s Cook’s Guide section; it’s got awesomosity! Each vegetable is listed alphabetically with its varieties, along with preparation, cooking, and storing methods. She even gives a few tips for creating your own recipes. Now I know everything about vegetables.

The Produce Bible is a beautifully photographed modern tribute to fruits and vegetables, and features two recipes per selection, along with a brief write up about basic uses, prep, and cooking methods. Plus, vegetarian cookbook hero Deborah Madison wrote the intro, so it’s riding on some veg cred.

Armed with a little BKafka knowledge (use a vegetable peeler on broccoli stems! the average broccoli head weighs 1 1/2 pounds!), a tasty looking recipe from LeanneK (Broccoli and Almond Stir-fry!), and a glorious, green head of broccoli, I made a side dish to die for supper twice this week. Bonus: No extra ingredients were purchase in the making of this dish.

Fast, easy, and super tasty, CB has already requested further repeat performances. He’ll get no arguments here. Broccoli and Almond Stir-fry has maximum awesomosity.

~~~~

If you fancied this recipe, your sensibilities may be delighted by:

• Cauliflower with Ginger, Garlic, and Green Chilies
• Smokey Mustard Greens
• Steamed Asparagus

~~~

Broccoli and Almond Stir-fry
Serves 3
From The Produce Bible by Leanne Kitchen, slightly modified


1 teaspoon coriander seeds, crushed
1 head broccoli, about 1 1/2 pounds, cut into florets
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 tablespoons slivered almonds
2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
1 teaspoon ginger, grated
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons sesame oil
1 teaspoon tahini or 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds

Note: The rapid pace once cooking starts makes it essential to have all your ingredients prepared before you begin.

1) Cut the broccoli into florets on the small side for faster cooking. Save the stems for another dish or soup stock. Give the coriander a mash in a mortar with a pestle, or if you’re me, in a shallow bowl with the bottom of a glass; a coarse crush is what we’re looking for here. If you have whole almonds on hand, chop about 12 of them for slivered almonds. Crush and mince the garlic, and grate the ginger. Remember, freezing the ginger in advance makes it a bazillion times easier to grate.

2) Combine, in a small bowl or glass measuring cup, red wine vinegar, soy sauce, sesame oil, and tahini. (If you’re using sesame seeds, sprinkle them on as a garnish.) Wisk to combine and set aside.

3) In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or wok, heat the olive oil over medium heat; add the coriander and almonds, and stir until the almonds are golden-brown, about 1 minute.

4) Toss in garlic, ginger, and broccoli, with a splash of water if necessary. Cook for two minutes until broccoli is bright green and tender. Remove from heat. Pour dressing over broccoli and toss to combine.

5) Serve immediately with rice pilaf and a revived love of flowering cabbage.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price per Serving
138 calories, 7.6g fat, 7g fiber, 6.7g protein, $.66

Calculations
1 head broccoli: 164 calories, 0g fat, 20g fiber, 16g protein, $1.50
1 teaspoon coriander seeds: negligible calories, fat, fiber, protein, $.02
1 teaspoon olive oil: 40 calories, 4.6g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.03
2 tablespoons slivered almonds: 81 calories, 7g fat, 1.5g fiber, 3g protein, $0.08
2 cloves garlic: 4 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.01
1 teaspoon ginger: 2 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.02
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar: 6 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.20
1 tablespoon soy sauce: 11 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.04
2 teaspoons sesame oil: 79.2 calories, 9.24g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.06
1 teaspoon tahini: 27 calories, 2g fat, 0.5g fiber, 1g protein, $0.03
TOTALS: 414 calories, 22.8g fat, 22g fiber, 20g protein, $1.99
PER SERVING (TOTALS/3): 138 calories, 7.6g fat, 7g fiber, 6.7g protein, $.66

His gifts are terrible. He talks when you want him to listen. His idea of a date is take-out pizza on the couch. Is this your guys notion of affection and romance? Well, actually, yes.

Fifteen years ago, I found myself in a romantic pickle: Cheryl, a woman I had been dating for about three months, was nearing her 25th birthday. The birthday gift in any three-month-old relationship is a dicey one, and I deliberated over it for weeks. Too big too soon and it could look like I was trying too hard. Too little and I might appear indifferent. Too romantic and Id run the risk of setting the bar too high.

And so it was with great enthusiasm that I finally unveiled the gift. It was heavy — about 8 pounds. And big — the size of a bowling ball. In fact, as Cheryl discovered after excitedly tearing off the wrapping paper, it was a bowling ball. And not just any bowling ball, but a blue, personalized bowling ball ("The Spanker," the twin to the 12-pounder I had bought myself: "The Wanker"). And the pièce de résistance: Both balls came in matching brown leather bags.


Hoisting the ball onto her lap, Cheryl turned to me. I saw several emotions pass across her face: shock, confusion, profound disappointment, then her dawning realization that how she responded to this present — this idiotic present — might well determine the fate of our relationship. She looked down, collected her thoughts, and raised her eyes to mine. "I love it!" she lied. "Lets go bowling tonight!"

Four years later, despite the bowling ball, Cheryl consented to marry me — and we have lived happily ever after. (And, yes, we still have the balls, and the pleather bags, and we bowl about as much as we did in the first three months of our relationship, which was almost never.) In fact, it could be argued that the success of our marriage owes, in part, to that very moment. Because on that day (and many, many days thereafter) my wife made a conscious choice: to see my hapless effort at romance not as a personal affront but as a love note written by a man in his own foreign language.

"Men do affection in ways that are not easily recognizable to women," explains couples coach Warren Farrell, Ph.D., author of Why Men Are the Way They Are. "The fundamental difference is that men tend to do, and women tend to talk — and much gets lost in translation. He feels frustrated, misunderstood; she feels like he just doesnt care. If you can learn to read the signals hes trying to send, however, hes going to feel like his method of loving is being appreciated. Hell probably feel like a good person. And then hell be more open to hearing something else — like how he could be even better." The point is, once you recognize your guys less-than-smooth gestures as the clumsy signs of affection they are, youll probably realize that he is grateful for you in more ways than you ever knew.

So how, exactly, do we big dunderheads express our love for you? Let us count the ways.

This action-oriented impulse also leads to the all-time most exasperating expression of male affection: Lets call it the quicker fixer-upper. You know how every time you start telling your man about your problems, he keeps jumping in with advice... solutions... surefire fixes? And you know how it makes you feel like the solution to your problem might actually come from shoving his helpful little head through a plate-glass window? Well, take a deep, cleansing breath and consider taking it easy on him.

"Women express affection by listening, but men express affection by giving advice," Farrell notes. "And women need to know that when a man loves her and shes hurting, not helping her directly is, for him, like letting someone he loves bleed to death and just sitting there watching. Giving advice is his way of getting her to the hospital, getting bandages on her, and stopping the bleeding. Its his way of saying, Im going to do absolutely everything I can to save you."

Dramatic? Perhaps, but not to Don, a 55-year-old CFO in Portland, OR. "When a man asks a question like, for instance, What was the problem at work? there is a legitimate desire for an outcome that will lead to some sort of action," he says. "But — and this has taken me a lifetime to figure out — when women begin ruminating about something, such as, My boss is really mean to me or, I just dont have anything to wear, there is, apparently, a fine line between actually wanting our input and simply wanting us to look interested. This runs counter to my every male instinct; right or wrong, I feel that I must find a solution."

In other words, when we say to you, "Hey, Im just trying to help," we really are just trying to help.

HIS TAKE:

"I always want to be able to provide for my wife, and actions are a lot easier than words for me. When I try to put my love into words, it often comes off as cheesy and awkward, whereas when I do things for her, it feels better to me." —Rob Myers, 36 Marion, MS REDBOOKs 2009 Americas Hottest Husband winner
And Yes, Sex Does Equal Love

A friend of mine, a 41-year-old restaurant owner in Rehoboth Beach, DE, is the father of two and the husband of a nurse. "I honestly believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I frequently let her know that," he says. "The problem is, sometimes she gets home after a 14-hour hospital shift and an hour commute in each direction — you know, just your typical 16-hour day of death, drama, and trauma. So when she walks in the door and I greet her with a, Honey, youre beautiful, its often met with a growl. The problem, if you asked her, is that no guy ever says or does anything nice for any woman unless theyre trying to get laid — and shes probably right about that. But I still dont see why that renders the compliment moot."

Actually, a compliment can simply be a compliment; were not always just trying to get you into bed. And even if we are just trying to get you into bed, in case you hadnt noticed, we guys... well, we sure do like our sex. One survey found that 70 percent of men think about sex every day (versus 34 percent of women), while 83 percent of men say they enjoy sex "a great deal" (compared with 59 percent of women). So the idea that we might want to share our favorite pastime with you is very much a good thing.

As Pat, a 36-year-old artist in Philadelphia, says, "Yeah, Ive fielded the suggestion from my wife that, It might be nice to just cuddle for a long time. And while my mouth said, Sure, my head, my heart, and my other parts never receive that particular memo. No guy ever gets enough sex; until they install another 24 hours in each day and fill it entirely with sex, it just isnt possible."

Look, we men are perfectly willing to accept that women are content to express affection by cooing, hugging, and all that gooey stuff. But the fact that we ourselves want none of these things does not mean that we dont love you. The honest truth is that by having sex with you, we are expressing our love. You can blame countless millennia of evolution, which have encoded us as such: I like her; I will have sex with her. (Reproduce, rinse, repeat.) That impulse is the driving force of life, so mock it all you want, but its not going anywhere. Besides, as we guys are deep in the throes of passion — all sweaty and grunty and making our silly man-sex faces — we do really love you. (Or at least it sure feels like love. Or maybe we just love how youre making us feel.) Whatever, somewhere between all that and the mumbly postcoitus before we drop off to sleep, we do feel an undeniable closeness, an intimacy the likes of which men never otherwise experience.

Except, of course, if were bowling.