Love isn’t logical: stop confusing ‘checklist perfect’ with real love
Who you ‘want’ will rarely be who you fall for
The guy I’m seeing grabbed my foot this morning. I opened one eye and peered up at him. He was standing in his boxer shorts, beaming at me like a proud ten year old who had just caught a newt. “What time is it?” I said, thirty seconds away from being fast asleep again. “Don’t know,” he said, pointing to the side of the bed. “But I made you coffee.” I glanced over to see a cafetiere of fresh coffee and my favourite cup. My heart swelled. It didn’t matter that I was covered in moisturiser, wearing an old jumper, and my hair badly needed washing. He loved me. “I love you,” I said weakly. I meant it. “I love you, Madelaine Hanson,” he said, and kissed me on the nose, wincing a bit at the taste of my face cream.
This is the thing about love: it isn’t about beauty, or wealth, or height, or power. It isn’t about what car he drives or what size she is. Love rarely arrives as you think it will, in the way you think it will. Love makes that person more desired than any physical or financial attribute ever could. Take my fellow. I cannot even question that he loves me. This is a man who loves to paint my nails, buy me random candles from Aldi, and cook me supper. A man who rubs my neck without asking and insists on sitting through the…
