How can you tell the difference between love and lust? How do you know that you love someone more than you love the feeling of the change, thrill of the moment, happiness of feeling wanted by someone else?
I used to say that I knew what love was. I had been in and out of relationships that I believed had possessed love at one point. The words "I love you" were spoken, and in a blink of an eye, the relationship was over, and hearts were broken. The idea of love is much different than love itself. Love contains an unbreakable bond. Once you meet that person who you can absolutely not see yourself without, that's when you know you're in love.
Love is a powerful and precious thing. I mentioned before that I thought I found it. My past relationships held loyalty. I was pushed around, pushed down, and sometimes, every once and a while, picked back up because that is what a "good" boyfriend does. That wasn't love. It was me loving the idea that somebody wanted me. Somebody was attracted to me. I was insecure.
That was the me of the past. In the last year, I have made many changes to my life. I have been on a rollercoaster of emotions, both good and bad. I have been pushed down more times. But I have included people in my life who have been more than willing to pick me back up. One of these amazing people is a man who I have the pleasure to call my boyfriend. Because I know what it's like to lust over someone, and love the idea of them wanting you, I know that I am completely in love with Peter.
April 18, 2016: Still feeling a bit insecure, but a little spontaneous, I decided to send a message to the boy who had been in one of my courses throughout the entire semester. Although he may have not known, I had my eye on him since the first day of class. Finally, I mustered up enough courage to talk to him. I didn't know what to expect of our date, but it ended up being the most amazing date I had ever been on. Genuinely interested in me, he listened to every story I had, and he asked questions to get to know me. Suddenly in a restaurant full of people, he was the only one I saw.
Fast forward to a few weeks later: While at a birthday party for one of his friends, I had a great time. I was able to get to know his friends a little better through great conversation with them. After leaving the party, his best friend reassured me that Peter was completely head over heals for me and I did not have to worry about a thing. That we were perfect together, and soon it would be made "official." Later that night, I watched as he helped carry his good friend back to her room as she had drunk a little too much that night. I watched as he tucked her in. As he tried to help her get as comfortable as possible. I watched him be a loyal friend. Putting her before anyone else. I knew at that moment that he was the one for me. He was selfless. He cares about me, he cares about his friends, and he cares about his family. He works hard and he's respectful.
May 14, 2016: Peter leaves to go back home to California. By this time, I am completely and totally in love with him and I know for a fact that we'll be together still when he returns in the fall. In fact, we'll be together forever. I cry. I hug him goodbye, and I walk away from the terminal. I try not to look back, but I can't help but sneak one more peak, just to see if he's watching me go. As I turn around, my heart aches to see the pain on his face. As he enters into that terminal, we enter into the three most difficult months of our lives.
June 11, 2016: I leave Chicago to visit Peter in California. I meet him at the baggage claim, and for the first time all summer, I feel whole again. My heart isn't heavy. I do not have to miss him anymore. I don't have to leave those strong arms that keep me safe for the next three days. Nothing changed. I met his family, and we had the most fun that we had all summer. No matter what we did, it was perfect. Until he had to take me back to the airport at 4 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. We both cried. Harder than the last. I hoped the next month and a half would fly by.
Today: He comes back to Chicago in three weeks. It feels like the day will never come. I walk to work, and every plane that flies over my head, reminds me that I am just one day closer to seeing him. It seems like time is crawling. My heart is heavy because I miss him more than I ever have. I try to be strong. Work hard to forget the pain, but at the end of the day, we spend hours on FaceTime because it is the closest thing we have to being together.
I love him because he is strong enough to take the risk of dating me over 2,200 miles. I love him because he puts me before himself. I love him because he wants me to be in his life in every way possible. I love him because he loves me for me. Makeup or not, dressed up or in sweats, happy or crabby, he still loves me. I love him because I know what it feels like to love the feeling, and for once, I know what it's like to love the man more than I love the feeling.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
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