Love: How Can a Four-Letter Word Be So Complicated?

Love. It’s a little word that packs a wallop. It has been the subject of countless songs, movies, plays, poems, stories, conversations…the list goes on and on. It is also a subject that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. And the more I turn it over and over in my head, the more confused I become.

Love has got to be the most elusive concept in existence. Think about it: we know what it means to be happy, to be sad, to grieve, to be prideful, to be jealous, etc. But what does it mean to love? Or to be in love? Or to be loved? Is love an action, or simply the catalyst for an action? Does love take work? Is love a choice? Is love that sick, nervous feeling we get in the pit of our stomachs when we see the person we’re attracted to? Is love attraction itself, or is attraction something completely different, giving way to love?

I attended three weddings this summer, as a bridesmaid in two and simply as a guest in the third. The brides in the two weddings I was in were my age: 22. The bride in the third was 18. At each, I couldn’t help but wonder how the bride and groom knew they were in love.

I’ve asked my mom on several occasions how she knew that Pops was the one she truly loved and wanted to be with for the rest of her life. Each time, she responded with, "I just knew." But do we really "just know?" Do we get an absolutely certain feeling when we meet somebody that leaves us no room for doubt as to them being our life partner? Or do we find somebody to whom we’re attracted and can reasonably see spending the rest of our lives with, make our vows, close our eyes, hang on tight and pray to God that it works out?

At the bookstore the other day, I read a magazine article written by a woman who has been happily married for fifteen years. When she got married, however, she didn’t "just know" that her would-be husband was "The One." She’d been told all her life that when she found her life partner, she’d "just know." So it scared her to death that she never got that absolutely certain feeling about her fiancé--so much so that she burst out crying right before her wedding ceremony. Yet she still married him, and it turned out to be a good decision. To this day they are happily married.

In contrast, I "just knew" that my ex-boyfriend was "The One." We seemed very compatible, were attracted to each other and I could see myself reasonably spending the rest of my life with him. Yet it ended, and I was crushed. I loved him--or thought I did. Looking back as a more mature and less naïve woman, I have to wonder, was it really love? If it’s true love between two people, won’t it always work out?

I guess the main point I’m trying to get at is this: How do we know if we’re love if we don’t even know what love is? The more I ponder this question, the more I realize that I’m not any closer to answering it than I was ten minutes ago. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe love can’t be defined for a reason. Maybe it’s supposed to be one of those heartbreaking, wonderful, frustrating mysteries of life that we’re meant to experience without asking any questions.