Like Vs. Love
So you got a crush and started to like someone, eh? Well that’s not necessarily the worst thing in the world. Liking people gets a bad rap because it’s commonly connected to and confused with lust, which is notorious for being bad news. It’s nothing more than a guilty by association type of deal. However, there is a significant difference between like and love — one that features seperate levels of feelings. This is somewhat of a text based contour map that identifies those highs, lows, peaks and valleys.
People generally enjoy the early stages and initial feelings of liking someone. The desire to talk to and spend time together. The learning all those details about each other. You’ve got butterflies in your stomach. Or is that gas? Uh-oh, it might be gas. And if it is, you’d better not release it around your crush. That’s the difference between like and love. Like means holding in farts until your stomach aches to preserve your most appealing image. Love on the other hand will remain unwavering, despite someone letting ‘em rip. This is romance translated through flatulence – not the most eloquent description.
While that analogy may sound ridiculous, that doesn’t make it invalid. Having crushes and liking someone can be altered by a mere pet peeve or silly turnoff whereas love is a more durable, resilient link. There are plenty of stories of people going out with someone multiple times but eventually discovering some trivial thing, physically or personality-wise that they aren’t a fan of. So date number two, three or however many will be the last because of something insignificant.
That’s why some people (myself included) hate dating. A lot of the time it feels too much like an audition. Lots of politically correct statements, safe answers, hiding of weaknesses or flaws – it’s like work. Unless you’re an outspoken person, in which case you have no shame being frank about things. For those of us with a filter and some insecure tendencies, liking and being liked is hard labor. We carry around a lumpy sack full of giant turnoffs, like a self-conscious Santa Clause. Throughout the like stage we do our best to discreetly hide that bag in its entirety, removing potential flaws from it over time, only when we’re comfortable.
Then there’s love, which is much deeper, much different. It’s a thing of beauty. The way love is relaxed, yet still full of passion; similar to those emotions felt when you first met that person. It’s no longer about gaining the upper hand. There’s no not calling her because she hasn’t texted you or flirting with someone to garner more attention. Love will eliminate the imbalances and different degrees of feelings seen during like. It’s unconditional or bust. You can’t kind of love a person and they can’t sort of love you. You just love each other wholeheartedly, which is so much easier. Everything can be removed from the bag of blemishes, all the gas can be passed and nothing changes. Now that’s a thing of beauty. It may not smell so good, but it’s certainly a beautiful thing to see.
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Why is it that a missing plane on the other side of the world commands more attention than a story about a missing African American woman from the United States?
All for you to WebMD later.
In the wake of the Belle Knox media madness, the so-called Duke Porn Star, I feel driven to write about my situation, which is both similar to and different from Belle’s.
Anyone who doesn’t let loose and party in their twenties is probably not worthing even talking to. Like. Ever.