So yesterday I’m scrolling through Pinterest at 2 AM, fueled by cold pizza and cheap wine, when this idea hits me: what the heck does “love” actually mean? I mean really, truly mean. Not the Hallmark card stuff. Woke up still thinking about it, so I grabbed my beat-up notebook and decided to crack this mess open. Here’s how it went down.
The Starting Point: Pure Confusion
First, I just sat there on my lumpy couch, staring at the peeling wallpaper. Felt kinda dumb, honestly. “Meanings in love”? Sounds like something a self-help guru would sell for $49.99. But I remembered my own disasters – that time I cried over a guy who ghosted me after three dates, or that other time I stayed way too long in something that felt like lukewarm oatmeal. Yeah, I needed to figure this out.
I started digging. Not deep philosophy, mind you. More like frantic Googling while slurping cold coffee. Read a bunch of articles, watched some tear-jerker movie clips, even flipped through an old diary cringing at my 19-year-old self’s terrible taste in men. Gathered a pile of words people throw around: trust, respect, passion, blah blah. Felt overwhelming.
Forcing Myself to Pick Five
Okay, I needed structure. “Five meanings” was the title I’d slapped on my draft post, so now I was stuck with it. Fine. I cleared the coffee mugs off the floor and started scribbling messy lists:
- Connection: That feeling when someone actually gets your weird obsession with collecting mismatched socks, ya know?
- Service: Not grand gestures. Like, bringing them soup when they’re sick even if you hate their germy tissues.
- Growth: When they push you (gently!) to be less of a lazy bum and sign up for that pottery class.
- Safety: Being able to ugly cry watching dog rescue videos without them filming you for TikTok.
- Enjoyment: Simply having stupid fun together, laughing till milk comes out your nose.
Picked these because honestly? They popped up over and over in my own memories – the good and the bad.
Testing Them Against My Own Messy Life
Here’s the real practice part. I forced myself to look back at past trainwrecks and okay-ish relationships through this lens. Brutal. That guy who bought me fancy gifts? Zero on the “safety” scale – always felt like I was walking on eggshells. The one who made me laugh constantly? Strong on “enjoyment,” but zip on “growth” – we were stuck like bored teenagers.
Even looked at my friendships! Realized my best friend nails all five without even trying. Weird, huh?
Tried applying it to current crushes too. Asked myself: “Does texting with this new person feel like ‘connection,’ or am I just bored?” Hard questions.
The Simple Tip I Actually Tried
All this thinking is useless without action, right? So here’s the simple, kinda terrifying tip I actually did: I journaled about ONE interaction each day using just ONE of these meanings. No pressure to hit all five.
Yesterday, I focused just on “safety.” Had a video call with someone I’ve been chatting with. Instead of trying to be charmingly perfect, I admitted I was exhausted after a crappy work meeting. Felt weirdly vulnerable. But they didn’t bolt! They just said, “Yeah, work sucked for me too, wanna rant?” That tiny moment scored a point on the “safety” scale for me. Did NOT expect that.
What Actually Happened
Did I suddenly discover the secret map to perfect love? Nope. Still single, still figuring it out. But the fog lifted a little. Instead of asking fuzzy questions like “Do they like me?”, I started asking: “Did I feel safe talking to them today?” or “Was there any real connection in that conversation?”
It stopped being about finding “THE ONE” and started being about spotting real, actual ingredients in the messy soup of human interaction. Feels less like chasing unicorns now.
My takeaway? Forget trying to “find” all five meanings perfectly packaged in one person overnight. Start small. Pick ONE meaning. Pay attention to where you do or don’t feel it in your relationships, even tiny ones. Notice the difference. That’s the simple start.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll focus on “service.” Might just do the damn dishes for my roommate without grumbling about it. See what that feels like. Baby steps, right?
