How do you know?

 A question I’ve been asking my friends as of late, “how do you know you’re in love?” Each one of them responds the same way, “you just know,” they say.

Secretly, I’ve been asking myself that question. I think I may have found the answer and it could be my friends are right, you just know. I suspect, the difference in knowing you’re in love comes down to choice and how your actions speak for you.

Now, I wouldn’t say I’m successful when it comes to love; lots of failed relationships and even one failed marriage served with a side of desperate relief.

What does that say?

Was I ever in love at all or was it just demolished out of me after years of trying?
Regardless, these experiences leave me to question the feelings my heart portrays and actions associated.

Last night, however, I may understand how people know they’re in love. I felt something different; it wasn’t the dreamy “Ohhh, I must be in love” type of infatuation. That giddiness everyone feels when falling in love. This emotion showed more characteristics of genuine concern. The willingness I had to comfort him; care for him and ease his pain was abundant. It wasn’t motherly, it was out of consternation.

The man before me did not embody the strong, uber self-assurance, which he carries with staggering sense of swagger. Instead, I saw someone in pain. My face was no longer filled with its typical girlish optimism; seriousness had set in.

Don’t mistake, this man is not dying of any horrific disease, or anything.

I just found it interesting, the very idea of being in love finally dawned on me – my concern and desire to care for him pulled elements within my heart I haven’t felt before. It seems this relationship has become a little more stable.
I realized it is a relationship in the strongest sense of the word, after all. The idea scared me a little when I no longer had the urge to pull away and protect myself. I no longer wanted to fall off the grid and make him reach out for me.

It seemed in this one instance as I lay on his couch reflecting upon on my choices of the evening; I could be present, I could stand on my own two feet showing him I am here. Willing to stay and not flee.

It’s okay to be bold.

It’s not like this relationship is new and it’s also not old.

But, perhaps his friend was correct in his assessment of us the night before, in his words, perhaps we are “ramping it up.” Although, I was extraordinarily defiant during this conversation and I wonder if the boy who sleeps in the room behind me would follow my initial reaction. After all, the initial reaction of denial and the urge to flee the scene is much safer then the truth.

Why is that you ask?

With two feet ready to carry you far away as humanly possible with a shield of denial armed, waiting to defend you; nothing can harm you again. Nothing will hurt you; you are free to enclose your heart into a vacuum where nothing can touch it.

Yes, it is a much easier thought than the alternative. However, it’s funny when the urge to run seems tiresome and it’s more relaxing knowing safety, ironically, can be waiting for me if I just go to bed. He’ll be next to me.