Better to be liked than loved? It’s complicated - even with emojis

Not surprisingly, I wasn’t nominated for mother of the year when I told my teenager: “I always love you. Just sometimes I don’t like you.” I’m not even sure who out of my three offspring it was who heard this first, but I’m certain they all have, maybe more than once. Tough love? No. Tough like.

Saying you love someone was once a sacred expression lavished on children, parents, grandparents, and skirted around with a new romantic partner like a Mexican standoff, afraid the other won’t reciprocate. Siblings were more likely to scream their hate for you rather than utter “I love you”.

The biggest compliment that endorsed someone’s endearment of you was to hear they “liked” you. Growing up, I liked my friends, some teachers, my siblings (not all the time) and TV’s The Love Boat. I also liked Aussie Crawl – the rock band, not the swim stroke – but I genuinely loved guitarist Brad Robinson, RIP.

The word “like”, in a certain context, held huge power as an adolescent. If I dared to say I liked a boy, notes would be passed around the school and by lunchtime we’d be either dating or I’d be planning how I was going to continue my classes from the toilet block, where I’d be hiding for the remainder of my school years. It was a romantic “like”, fuelled by the tingling of puberty and a maturing olfactory system that made boys smell so good.

Fast-forward to today and online interactions have hijacked the simplicity of emotions when we engage with others through social media, online messaging services, even business-specific platforms. Once content with the thumbs-up “like” emoji for people to acknowledge your message, they now have hearts and hugs, along with surprised, angry and sad faces.

On the one hand, I’m OK with this, as a thumbs-up suggesting I like that your cat just died would seem insensitive. On the other, I feel the pressure to go beyond the default endorsement popularised by Arthur Fonzarelli in the TV show Happy Days in the ’70s, as I compete to show you how much more engaged I am with your post than those who merely choose the default option. Yep, I know it’s sad. I’m a grown-up!

For those who still get to speak to their loved ones in an emoji-free environment, be freed of the emotional shackles that loving and liking someone are mutually inclusive. I have long said the love a mother has for her child is a primal love, buried in our DNA. I’m hardwired to love my kids. I have little control over my instinct to nurture and fuss and to stop them walking out onto a busy road. I could lift a car if I thought they were under it.

My love for my husband comes from years of us being a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. A love not from biology, but from choice, hard work and the good times far outweighing the bad. My love for my family is undeniable, but it is not a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Liking them is not guaranteed.

We’ve all known people who once loved each other but who have now parted ways, be it partnership or family estrangement. Some try to repair their union, citing remnants of love while holding on to the anchor of the Titanic. I wonder what response might be forthcoming if they were to be asked one simple question: “But do you like them?” While misery and love have had long-term committed relationships in myths, sonnets, novels and screenplays, such tragedy seems to be avoided when the narrative is about liking someone.

Love is wonderful, of course, but not at the expense of all the other wonders that should come with loving someone. The things that make the relationship an enriching part of your existence. Kindness, sharing, giving, receiving, joy, comfort, laughter and trust. The things that make you like someone.

As for me, my highest endorsement – whether you be family, friend or one of the people I follow online – is that I should like you or what you shared. Love is complicated and riddled with more trap doors, trip wires and snake pits than an Indiana Jones movie. Love is an expectation, a default in many relationships. Being liked, on the other hand, must be earned and maintained. If you really want to know what someone thinks of you, ask them if they like you.

Jo Pybus is a freelance writer.