“Love.” What does it mean, how does it feel and is it different with different people?
These were questions I found myself asking over the past two months.
Growing up, I had a very affectionate family. We were constantly telling each other we loved each other. I now know I am very lucky to have had that growing up, because it has shaped me as a person.
That being said, I felt like I had no idea what love was. I said “I love you, goodnight,” to my parents and my sister every night, but it felt like I was going through the motions.
I want to preface this by saying I care for and love my family very much, but sometimes we say things and don’t stop to think about how it actually makes us feel.
I learned as a young adult that there are different types of love. The way I love my family is different from how I love my friends or dogs.
I have now discovered a different kind of love: one for a significant other.
If I’m being completely honest with myself, developing these feelings was weird. I had been seeing him since June, but we had only recently become official. I spent most of winter break with him. I saw him just about every day, to the point where I saw him more than my own family over those six weeks. This is where those feelings became clear.
I wrestled with those feelings for days. Wondering if I was correct in my feelings, if what I was feeling was actually love. I played out scenarios in my head of what would happen and how I would confess my feelings to him.
Obviously, my feelings had become more intense over time, but was it too soon to say those three words that could change everything?
There is so much pressure put on those words. I didn’t want to mess anything up because things were going in a great direction.
During this time, I had a feeling that he felt similar, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. He came up to visit me a couple of times this semester. This was a big-time commitment and involved a seven-hour drive here and back. This was when I knew he loved me.
No one but my parents would do this for me. Taking his whole weekend to come see me for a couple of days is something that only he has done for me. Spending the time and money to come up to Rhode Island for 48 hours is something I am so thankful for.
On his visit a couple of weeks ago, I could just feel myself wanting to say those words, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could feel him willing me to share my feelings that I couldn’t get past my lips.
I told him one night I was scared of my feelings, but he assured me, like usual, that this was a safe space to share them. That is one of the reasons why I love him; he allows me to sit with my feelings and doesn’t push me to be anyone but myself.
I didn’t tell him I loved him during this moment. I just couldn’t. What if I was rejected? What if he didn’t say it back? I couldn’t deal with the thought of rejection. So I did what I always do: I made him share his feelings first.
We went to bed not saying those three words that hold so much weight. In the middle of the night, we both woke up. We stared at each other, and I felt the heaviness of the moment. I wanted to say it so bad.
Finally, he told me he was in love with me.
It felt like the world was lifted off my shoulders. Naturally, I said it back immediately. It gave me some sort of peace knowing that we were both terrified to tell each other.
I no longer have to question what love for a significant other feels like, because I am lucky enough to share the feeling with another. I’m very excited to experience how this love grows and changes over time.
