The supersecret signals of love

Small talkers know something the rest of us don’t. It may only be a shred of something — some useless information — yet still, these everyday gabbers do spread a sense of bonhomie wherever they go, while us more serious talkers tend to save our chatting for unique inquiries that lead to worthwhile and impactful exchange.

In our humble and totally nonjudgmental opinions.

I never ask of a stranger, for example, where do you live or where did you go to school or how many kids do you have, though you hear these questions tossed around often as simple polite timewasting fare.

Even if you do meet the guy who once said, “My wife always tells me to get to the point.” Or the guy who boasted, “I may be the biggest introvert you’ve ever met. Let me tell you why.”

People say women talk more than men. Every woman who’s been stuck with a guy and a story knows this isn’t true.

Yet I would ask a stranger what a bizarre political pin means on their jacket or why they’ve bought so many onions because either topic could spark a dicey discussion. Now we’re talking! But that was the old me, the old arbiter of what is and isn’t interesting. These days, I’m not so laser focused, so choosy. These days, I seem to be talking to anybody — the neighbors, the waitresses, the hikers, the dogs — about anything.

Ray would say it’s because I’m done talking to him, as he’s done talking to me. After so much time together this year, here we are, out in the world, yakking away to anyone but us.

In fact, we’ve devised a series of supersecret signals so we can clandestinely communicate, testing the belief that a majority of human communication is nonverbal. Apparently, between 70 and 93%.

I’m not referring to the everyday signals of love and support, distaste and disgruntledness we all use. A blown kiss, a thumbs up, a wink, a nod, a deep stare, a hand over the heart, a frown, a sneer, maybe a middle finger.

I’m referring to our own collection of shortcut intimacies like presets on the radio or key combinations on the computer. Gestures we can easily remember, at least in theory.

The first signal is simple, if you’d like to play along. We take one index finger, put it on the forehead, then pull it away and open the full palm, essentially saying “Achhh.” This means, of course, “Are you totally out of your mind?”

Then there’s the sign where we bare our teeth and shake our hands wildly like drunk monkeys. It gets the point across — “You’re making me nuts” — while we innocently prattle away to some gas station attendant or flagger on a highway.

To express a desire to get going, we’ve rejected the typical horizontal swipe of a hand and adopted this: shifty eyes bugged out, knees bent, think Groucho or Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein, then crouch away quickly before anyone knows we’re gone. Subtle I know.

To show we’re hungry, we’re using our fingers like lobster claws. To say we’re tired, we’re lying flat down, anywhere, attracting no crowd at all. To say we’re thirsty, we’re slurping the ground. To say we need help, we’re stomping our feet, disturbing no one.

And to say we’re happy, we’re not smiling, too trite. No, we’re gazing up at the heavens to thank our lucky stars we can still act like raving lunatics who should never be allowed out of the house, as this strange and risky time in the world marches on.