A few years ago, in the middle of a fit about a man that I was involved with, a friend and I had a disagreement on whether I was in love with the dude. I said no and she vehemently disagreed. She thought I was unequivocally in love with the man. We were at a stalemate in the discussion. What I realized was that we were not working with the same terminology. I have my own way to define this love thang.
To me, there are many levels of love: luv, love, Love, and in love.
Luv: Meh, it’s what you just kinda say about things. I luv my car. I luv that shirt. I luv that haircut girl. See what I mean? Meaningless.
love (small L): Small L love is affection. These are the relationships that keep you going, that sustain you, that lift you. You love your mama and daddy, brothers and sisters. You love your girlfriends. You love your guy friends. You love your cousins and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles. You want the best for these people. You’d do just about anything for these people. You’ll answer the phone at 3:00 AM for these people and not cuss…too much. You’ll let them sleep on your couch for a few days…or more. You would loan these people a few (FEW) dollars (okay, give…they ain’t paying back jack). You let them dress you in pink and green bridesmaid dresses…. Oh, well, you get the point. You love these people and are sure they love you back.
Love (big L): Now, this is romantic Love. Unfortunately, this Love may not be mutual. It’s scary and dangerous. This is the Love that makes a woman’s heart beat a little bit erratically, the kind that gives a woman butterflies in her stomach. (I’m smiling just thinking about it!) This is the Love that makes a woman cook a man a 5-course meal in a bra, panties, stilettos and an apron… with a migraine. This is the “can you stand the rain” love. This Love makes you smile in the middle of a meeting at work while they are talking about potential layoffs. (You don’t give a shit; you’re thinking about how it feels when he holds you.) This is “hop on one foot, bark like a dog (arf, arf), a big dog (woof, woof)” act like you have no sense kind of love. This is the Love that makes a woman drive 3 hours just to be there when you get off from work. This is the Love that makes a woman get her, ahem, “front yard” cut in the shape of a Kappa Diamond. (I love the Nupes but even I draw the line at this shit.) This is the Love that…hell, you know what I’m talking about. Every single one of you reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about AND can conjure up the memory – good or bad - of somebody that made you feel that kind of Love. We’ll get back to that in a minute.
In love: THIS is the big one, the one that was the source of the big argument. See, I don’t think you can be in love all by yourself. Think about it. It’s called being IN love. If you are alone in the thing, whose love do you have to fall into? Note: it is dangerous to confuse Love with being IN love. You might jump in head first without realizing there was no love to fall into…and you hurt yourself. Think jumping in a waterless pool. Same danger except your heart is broken rather than your neck.
I think most of us have Loved somebody and have great memories of that person. Actually I believe that the feelings you have of that person after the fact give a hint about the sincerity of the Love you felt about them in the first place. If you wouldn’t pee on them if they were on fire, you may want to do some self-reflection to determine what your true feelings were because I’m willing to bet they weren’t real Love. I have certainly had to do that recently…and had to acknowledge that what I thought was Love was something totally different.
But when the Love is real, it will change to love (small L) but it never goes away. After all, he is your ex-future baby daddy. You still smile when you think of him. You want the best for him. You would still run to the hospital if he is in an accident…and worry about what it might look like later. You still feel protective of him. You might set it off in a club when someone says something disrespectful against him. (Bellbottoms, late 90s. Hey, I was young.) You might feel a slow-burning but 1600 degree anger – trying hard not to shoot the unsuspecting messenger – when you hear that his pain is being mocked. You check people who talk shit him and don’t know him. Forget being “mad on my behalf”! I actually don’t appreciate it. (Now that I’m older I realize that it is not a show a sisterhood to be mad on somebody else’s behalf; it’s stupid. She will get over it and you will still be mad. Support the sister but keep in mind how LITTLE of the situation you really know. Could have saved myself a lot of grief and Tums had I figured this out years earlier than I did.)
So how many times have I Loved and been in love? That depends on how honest I’m being with myself. I know I’ve REALLY Loved at least 3 times and been in love at least once. I’ve had plenty of “thought it was Love…until I realized it was some bullshit”. And yet, I’m still hopeful…and prayerful.
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