The four-letter “L” word makes me feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes, when my older sister tells me that she loves me, I get the willies; like this sudden reflex to take a moment to barf. My stomach dips in and out of nausea, and I can’t help but secretly plot my escape from the unfortunate situation that cornered me into, gasp, saying “I love you” back. I can’t help it. It’s one of those awkward moments I’d rather avoid altogether. Long story made short: My feelings and I aren’t friends.

With that said, you may think I need counseling, but I have a sneaky feeling that you, too, are one of the many people in this world who find the Word an unnaturally painful experience. Another one of those kids who grew up not saying it … or hearing it. Like me.

Come to think of it, my parents and I have never exchanged an “I love you.” Our intimate phone conversations consist of my: “Hi Eomma!” — said with enthusiasm and gusto as if I was actually happy to hear from her. And my mother’s reply: “Any good news?” — without condescension and with only a glimmer of expectation.

The only difference between my family and a dysfunctional one is that mine actually means more than they say and often the opposite of what they do, rather than not feeling anything at all. For example, if you look up this short dialogue between mother and daughter in our Kim’s Family Dictionary of Unsaid Emotions, you would find that my three-syllable sentence really translates to: “Gee whiz, hearing your voice really makes me homesick for you and dad. I’m glad I’ll be visiting in a couple months.” And my mother’s notorious question is actually said to mean: “Oh daughter of mine, I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait for your visit so I can comment on how fat you’ve gotten and feed you insane amounts of Korean food.” Now that’s love.

But after 21 years of perfecting this minimalist brand of affection that I like to call “Kim Love,” I have found that boyfriend-girlfriend romance doesn’t exactly work the same way. You see, according to my dictionary, a sweet “Hi” said in just the right tone, with just the right amount of elongated “i” and coupled with a toothy smile, is always defined as: “I love you. I want to marry you and have lots of sex and babies with you.”

But for some reason, my boyfriend gets lost in the translation, every time. I even tried buying him a copy of my dictionary, but the Barnes & Noble and Borders in my area didn’t carry it. Go figure.

The charade was fun for the first few months … until he started getting insecure about my feelings for him.

In the end, I guess some things have to be said. Even if the process takes 35 minutes of complete silence to build up enough courage to whisper it just as he’s about to give up. Even if after saying it you’re left completely raw and bawling without knowing exactly why. Even if you would give your right arm for everything to be peachy without having to say it, every once in a lifetime, your fears actually do catch up to you. And when that happens, it’ll give you a shove, stare you down like a K-town girl with too much makeup, and you will finally be out of clever escape plans to save you. Then it will face you, and you’ll be forced to face it.