Skip to main content

Don't Overdo Emotions: What Dear You Teaches Us About Love Intelligenc

Don't Overdo Emotions

What Dear You Teaches Us About Love Intelligence

People often take emotions to extremes.

When they're happy, they celebrate without limits. When they're sad, they become overwhelmed.

Many films are designed to squeeze every possible tear from the audience. They amplify every emotional moment, making every scene more dramatic than necessary.

Not Dear You.

The entire film is an exercise in restraint.

  • Each major crying scene lasts less than a minute.

  • Moments of humour naturally follow scenes of sadness, allowing the audience to breathe again.

  • Director Lan Hongchun deliberately avoided making the film emotionally overwhelming.

He explained:

"I don't want audiences to leave the cinema with heavy hearts. I want them to leave with gratitude and a lighter heart."

That is the mark of a master storyteller.

A truly moving film does not drown people in sorrow. It helps them discover hope beyond it.

The same is true of Love Intelligence.

The highest expression of love is not emotional excess, it is restraint.

Restraint is Care: not imposing your emotions on others.

Restraint is Courage: remaining calm and steady even in the midst of pain.

Restraint is Connection: creating space for others to heal instead of burdening them with your emotions.

The most emotionally intelligent people are not those who express the most emotion, but those who know when, how, and how much to express.

That is why Dear You moves millions of people.

It does not simply make us cry.

It teaches us to leave with gratitude, hope, and the quiet strength to continue living well.

That is the Dear You Effect.

That is Love Intelligence.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What an Executive Coach and Business Coach Does

The Secret Under the Mattress: Why would a 79-year Man Bet So Big on 4D?

It was 2007 when we discovered his secret. While moving my father’s mattress, we found them: heaps and heaps of Singapore Pools 4D tickets. They were stacked in layers, a paper trail of lost hopes. What shocked us most wasn’t just the volume, but the stakes. He wasn’t betting a few dollars for fun. He was punting hundreds of dollars per draw—nearly ten times a month. At the time, my siblings and I were furious. Our father was a 79-year-old retiree. We wondered, with a mix of anger and confusion, why a man at his stage of life would need to win such "big money." What was he going to do with the money? We saw it as a reckless habit, a sign of poor judgment in his final years.  Some of us would say, "If I were to give him money to buy 4D, why don't I use the money and buy 4D myself?  At least I have better discipline".  It has taken me two decades, and the experience of raising my own three grown-up children, to finally see the truth that was hidden under that matt...

Head Bleeding when the Chair Falls

The Weight of Silence: What Were We Really Arguing About? My earliest memories are punctuated by the sound of shouting. In 1970, when I was barely 6 years old, I stood as a small witness to the fierce quarrels between my father and my late eldest brother Kah Yang (he passed away in 1971 at the age of 17). As I grew up, these contradictions became the soundtrack of our lives, usually centered around our family's shoe shop and clothing stalls in Chinatown. In the court of family opinion, the verdict was almost always the same: my father was "wrong." He was judged as a man who didn't fulfill his role, who wasn't "burdening" enough for the family’s success. But as I look back from the vantage point of 2026, I have to ask: Was that actually true? Let me finally put to rest what my father did right: the truths that were buried under decades of criticism: Unseen Labor: He worked grueling, long hours. I remember him hauling boxes of goods and equipment to set u...