I’ve talked about love before. I’ve defined it before. More than once. I still believe that. And I could still talk about it. A lot. But I will spare you, and leave you with only a couple of thoughts.
A friend of mine said that she doesn’t believe in falling in love, that people can only care for each other and be together out of necessity after the age of 25.
I strongly disagree with her theory, but I do see something resembling this happening a lot more today. I will give her that.
So many people are only in relationships (or worse, marriages) for self-serving reasons. For the money, for the status and all the other perks, for the wish of not being alone, of not being single parents, and so on.
So, can we fall in love after the age of 25? Heck, Yes!
Do we truly love only once in our lifetime? I don’t think so.
However, in the past few years, after going through a lot of ups and downs and different relationships, I realized something important. We love every partner slightly, or greatly, differently.
It’s one kind of love, when we’re in high school and our biggest problems are having a curfew or choosing the right university. It’s another kind of love when we move out of our parents’ house, we discover who we’re shaping up to be, we have room/flat mates, classes at uni all day, and know full well that after the final exams are done, we’re relocating and our partner will be left behind.
And it’s a different kind of love once we start working full-time, maybe even more than one job, and try to make ends meet. It’s definitely another kind of love when we live together, go through grief, changing jobs, illness, caring for family and other difficulties together.
There is also a lot of joy all the while going through all of these different types of relationships. I’m not contesting the effort, and the love we pour into each relationship.
So if you really think about it, how could we really love everyone exactly the same way if we ourselves are continuously changing and evolving?
The “trick” is to recognize this and not avoid telling people we love them, only because we think we should feel in a way that fits into a nice and comfy, previously experienced mold.