Once a month, I grab my dog, head across the hall to my neighbor’s place, and he cooks me dinner. I sit on the ground with my back against his cabinets, while he sizzles veggies on his stovetop. It’s in this ritual of ours that our best conversations happen.

A few years back, I struggled through a string of heartbreaks, and I started to doubt every text, every call, and every date. While cooking me dinner, my neighbor gave me one piece of advice that changed the way I thought about love.

“You want to know the best way to get someone to care for you?” Of course, I wanted to know; I was stuck in a sea of apathy. “Ask them for a favor. When someone does a favor for you, like take you to the airport or feed your dog when you’re stuck at work, they immediately feel closer to you.”

I might have yelled: “Yes! Because love is an action!” He laughed nodding. My years of acting theory flooded my brain. I realized I had a better grasp on human emotions than I thought I did.

Have you ever watched an actor try to cry? He scowls, blinks, pouts, looks towards the sky and scowls again. It’s painful to watch. It’s quite different than actually seeing a skilled actor cry. When you see a skilled actor cry, there is no trying.

Nobody in real life decides to cry. It’s something that sneaks up on you and you fight against it, often making it more powerful. A skilled actor sets himself up to do the same.

Let me explain with a quick and over-simplified Acting 101. Every character has a need, and its the actor’s job to find physical actions to fill that need.

For example, if a character feels out of control, an actor might choose to take every opportunity to impose his will on others. He could place his hand over the mouth of another character. He could deliberately spill water, making another character clean it up. He could lay his whole body across a sofa, leaving no other place for the other characters to sit. His emotions are a direct reflection of the success or failure these actions have in gaining control.

“I don’t feel connected,” an actor would often complain.

“Fuck the emotion!” my instructor would yell, with his fist flying through the air. “Get what you want!”

As soon as an actor lets go of any emotional expectation and throws all his focus on, in this case, control, he becomes overwhelmed with each failure. His face grows hot, his heartbeat quickens, his voice starts to shake, and before he is even aware, tears stream down his face. His emotions are a product of his actions.

What does this example of playing this future dictator have to do with love?

Everything!

People want to be inspired to love. They wait for someone with overwhelming magical compatibility. Mere attraction isn’t enough, nor is simply sharing the same sense of humor. Enjoying someone’s company is nice, but is it enough to last a lifetime? They wait. Lovers come and lovers go, but they withhold until inspiration overwhelms them to grand gestures of love. It never does.

Why? They’re going about it backward. “Fuck the emotion!” Focus on the action. Their withholding from their partners corrodes any feelings of love. The action of the grand gesture would inspire love. The inaction inspires apathy.

Often I hear the fault misplaced on those unable to inspire. The quality of love is dependent on the capacity of the lover, not the inspiration of the loved. Don’t let the rejectors convince you otherwise.

Why do we love our pets so much? Multiple times a day, we demonstrate our love. We feed them, buy them toys, walk them, and we even pick up their poop, reinforcing a beautiful deep love.

I’ve often heard, “Love is a verb.” If you want to feel love, you must act lovingly. Find opportunities to care for people. Rake the leaves for your mother, because you know they stress her out when company comes. Play the same song with your niece, for eight hours straight, on your ukulele, because she almost has it down. You’ll feel more love for them when you do. Making your neighbor dinner will help mend her heart, but it will also allow yours to feel tender as well.