Is It Love?
Or something else
How do you know if you love someone? Is it the way that your pulse races when they walk into the room? Is it the way that they make you feel when you are together? These are certainly indications of attraction and passion, but they might be something more akin to infatuation than actual love. And if they are a factor in real love relationships, they aren’t the only factors.
My husband James often compliments me first thing in the morning. He likes me made-up and coiffed too, but there’s something special about bed-head and a bare face maybe because we are waking up together. He loves me for all of me and when we arise to share another day of our lives, he’s lying next to the true and unadulterated me — the one that loves him back in the same way, no matter what. Apparently, it’s a good look!
Yesterday I was looking at a photograph of Nat, my other life partner, who now lives on the other side of the country from us. In the picture, he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and his face was scruffy in a way that wasn’t chic. He’d put on a little bit of weight because he’s just gone through a couple of months of intense stress. But when I look at that picture, I don’t really care about those things. I see them, but they don’t overshadow his kind eyes or the other aspects of him that I love so deeply that are shining through the exterior. Appearance is a part of attraction, but if all you care about is the veneer of someone, that isn’t really love.
It was in knowing what I wanted to give her and not what I wanted to get from her, that I realized I felt love for her.
Many years ago, James and I went through a rough patch. It seemed that we were fighting all the time — about what, I no longer remember. What I do remember though is that despite this constant friction, when I would hear the garage door go up at the end of the day, my heart would soar. Maybe we were going to fight again and maybe we weren’t but at least he was home, and that in and of itself brought me happiness. That’s how I knew that our love was still strong and we’d get through it — and we did.
I first realized that I loved Tamara when we were in bed together. She’s a very beautiful and sexy woman that James and I are both involved with. In the midst of making love, I realized that I wanted to make her happy. I intended to give her pleasure but also wanted to have her feel seen and known in the way that she makes me feel those things. I’ve always thought that Tam was fun, authentic and smart as well as beautiful, but it was in knowing what I wanted to give her and not what I wanted to get from her, that I realized I felt love for her.
Because our society is based in a dominance hierarchy, people are constantly comparing themselves to each other — to those around them, to magazine models, and what they see on TV. “How do I rate in comparison to the people around me? Where do I fit in the hierarchy?” Some people even seek to enhance their status by who they are most closely associated with. But if you want someone in your life for the way that they can enhance your image or status, that’s not love either.
Love means you love someone, with their flaws, not in spite of them. You love them for them and not what they can do for you. You love them with a bad haircut or a few extra pounds or a snorting laugh because of all of who they are and not just how they measure up to some external standard. If somewhere along the way they start to go bald or get some wrinkles, you don’t love them any less, because if you did, that wouldn’t actually be love.
© Copyright, Elle Beau 2020 Elle Beau writes on Medium about sex, life, relationships, society, anthropology, spirituality, and love. If this story appears anywhere but Medium.com it has been stolen.