It's only later, over coffee, that he whispers to me: "That sounded memorized." He's right. But what exactly had she been going on about?
I google it on the way back. Love Languages. A concept from the nineties, Gary Chapman, marriage counselor, five languages of love. Praise, quality time, gifts, acts of service, physical touch. Sounds like something from the self-help aisle, somewhere between "You Are Enough" and "The Alchemist." Still, the thing apparently works. Millions of books sold, countless couples swear by it.
What really makes me curious (and probably the reason I'm even writing about this): How does a concept like that end up in a Playmate's head? Between photo shoots, champagne events, and Instagram stories, a relationship guide from a time when Instagram didn't even exist suddenly lands there.
I imagine her reading the book. Maybe after a long day, between flights, in a hotel room. Or someone recommended it to her, a friend trying to save her third relationship. And then it sticks. Because despite all its simplification, it hits something real.
The thing about love languages is actually quite clever. It reduces relationship problems to a translation problem. He buys her flowers, she'd rather he empty the dishwasher. She constantly praises him, he just needs her hand on his arm. Different languages, different receivers. It makes sense without being complicated.
Of course it's simplified. Of course it falls short. People aren't multiple-choice forms with five options. But that's probably not the point. It's about actually thinking for once about how the other person works. And if a book from the nineties gets a couple to stop talking past each other, then it's served its purpose.
What does this have to do with photography, you might ask? This whole business with different languages applies to my work too. I photograph people in very intimate situations. Usually it's just the two of us on set. And every model needs something different to feel comfortable. One wants instructions, clear communication, constant feedback. Another needs quiet, room to experiment, no words.
I've never read a book about it. But after a few hundred shoots, you develop a sense for it. You learn to recognize the other person's language. And if you don't speak it, things get exhausting. For both sides.
Maybe that's why the interview scene with the Playmate stuck with me. Because she articulated something I've been doing for ages without being able to name it. Because those memorized sentences suddenly provided a framework for something I'd understood intuitively.
By the way, the Playmate had mentioned a sixth language. One that's not in the book. "Humor," she said. "When someone makes me laugh, that's when I feel loved."
She's probably right about that.