I made another word: “Loquivore”

And once again, I feel like its meaning is very obvious from its nature. Just like my previously-made words, it’s a fusion. Lexivist (lexical activist), ecfiosexual (ecfio- Latin word associated with creation, and sexual), and now loquivore: loqui + vore.

Definition: One who is partially dependent on intelligent conversation for stimulation. (Or something along those lines.) A trait that may be characteristic of some sapiosexuals.

Roots: “loqui” as in “talk”. i.e. loquacious, interlocutor, somniloquy (I swear this is a word, but as I write it, there’s a red squiggly line under it), soliloquy. “Vore” as in, omnivore, herbivore etc.

So, a loquivore is one who “feeds on conversations”.

The History and Necessity of its Creation

I have discovered that I am a creature who needs nourishment in at least two ways: one of these ways is physically. The other is intellectually. To understand it, try to transfer the same concept of physical hunger to intellectual hunger; you need food periodically. When you do, your body starts giving you signs. Rumbling tummy? Feelings of emptiness? And you can choose to ignore these signs, but it does get uncomfortable after a while.

In the same way, my mind can feel seriously undernourished. This results in restlessness and agitation, which have, on many occasions, frustratedly led me outside of my room to just…go and stare at the moon or walk around for a bit, when there’s no one close to talk to – as if these things can sufficiently distract me from what I truly need.

My mind feeds on (what I deem as intelligent) conversation. I suppose we can also transfer the ideas of diets and preferences to the intellect? I need it so often that sometimes I can barely function without it. And sometimes too, I just need to release – like, throw my thoughts into a pensive or something. It’s like indigestion. Or congestion.

I lie alone sometimes just…craving conversation. Oftentimes, this is when some of my fiercest Stockholm Solomania battles happen. It’s difficult to explain the relationship between my desire for solitude and my desire for interaction.

Why can’t the internet satisfy me, depending on who’s online? I don’t know. Face-to-face conversations are like heavy food. And online conversations are like snacks that take quite a while, if ever, to truly fill you up.

For something that exists, there must be a word – even if no one but me experiences this sensation. So here I am: a self-proclaimed loquivore.


5 thoughts on “I made another word: “Loquivore”

  1. When I read the definition you gave, I immediately, unconsciously closed my eyes and nodded three times. The birth of ‘loquivore’ is so cool to me! Welcome, ‘loquivore’. Welcome. ❤

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