I used to think I didn’t know anything about love.
No matter how much advice I gave to friends, or how many texts I ghost wrote for my friends to copy and paste to their significant others in times of domestic distress, or how many rom coms I watched, I always thought that nothing beat the feeling of being enamored with someone else.
Don’t get me wrong; I love my friends, my family, Timothée Chalamet, and boeuf bourguignon, but have I ever felt that Princess Diaries leg–popping, heart–thumping, nauseating version of love that I imagine runs through the blood of every loved-up couple on campus? Nope.
But maybe this idea that knowing about romantic love only comes from dropping the l–bomb followed by an intense make out session is flawed. Maybe reading about someone else’s experience with love, thinking back to that junior year unrequited crush, or feeling sexy and in love with yourself is enough knowledge to say that you know about love.
If there’s anything this issue shows, it’s that romantic love doesn’t arrive in the pre-packaged movie magic box the way we think it does. To quote Love Actually, love really is all around.
So, correction to my former self: I think I do know something about love.
