I know what love is, I felt it, I lived it, I breathed it, it filled my heart, it filled my head, it filled all of me. It was love. But the more I think about love, the more I think it must be different for all of us. Before Jon, I believed that I had loved somebody else - I believed that I loved Martin, I did, but it was not love like I was going to experience later on in life. Before Martin I believed a few times that I had loved. It was young love, inexperienced love, it was very different. 

The love that I felt with Jon took me by surprise. I said it a million times, I didn’t know that love like that could exist, it was a fairytale love. It was love and I felt it.

Love to me, it means everything that I felt and had with Jon. That was my love.

It means an overwhelming desire to make somebody happy. To make somebody feel worthy, special and appreciated. It means spending time choosing the perfect present, taking time, giving it real thought. And buying gifts just because you want to, not need to. It means laughter, silliness, in-jokes, giggles, sarcasm and wit. It means cuddles, the ‘just because’ kind of cuddles. It means wanting to be close all of the time. It is wanting them to know that you’re thinking of them when you are apart, it is telling them that you miss them. It’s listening to them talk about their day, with interest. Because it was their day, and you are interested. It’s watching them quietly, admiring them just doing their thing. It’s eye contact that brings an instant smile and a slight flutter in your heart. It’s holding hands and squeezing it tighter every now and then, to remind them that you’re there and you’re happy that you are. It’s cooking their favourite meal and watching them enjoy it. It is the comfortable silence between you both. It’s music. It’s the endless amount of songs that describe how you feel about each other. It’s dancing. It is compromising. It is reaching decisions together. It is learning and growing. It is consideration. It is getting cross and frustrated. It’s long drives in the car, your hand resting on their leg. It’s night time, lying next to them, listening to their breathing, your feet scrambling under the duvet searching, so they can touch theirs. It is talking. It’s sunsets. It’s the seaside on sunny days and it’s the seaside on windy days. It’s getting drenched in the rain. It is the way you fit so perfectly together. It’s a warm cup of tea first thing in the morning. It’s long soaks in the bath. It’s tears, being wiped away. It is working as a team. It’s the feeling of pride. The feeling of respect. It’s the feeling of protectiveness. It’s the feeling of being safe. It is honesty. It is wanting to be nothing but truthful, the need and the want to have no secrets, nothing to hide. It’s giving yourself, completely. It is being faithful. It is wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person. It is letting that person go. It is painful.

That was the love I felt. I realise now, that not everybody feels love in the same way. It is different for all of us. But that was mine. I felt it, I lived it and I breathed it.


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