Ask ten people in a crowded coffee shop to define "what is love to me" and you’ll get ten answers that sound like they were ripped from a Hallmark card or a tragic indie film. One person says it’s a feeling. Another says it’s a choice. A third person just sighs and looks at their phone.
We’ve been sold a lie.
The Hollywood version of love—the rain-soaked airport reunions and the "you complete me" monologues—has basically ruined our ability to see the real thing when it’s standing right in front of us. Honestly, it’s frustrating. We spend so much time looking for a spark that we forget sparks are just the result of friction, and they usually burn out in about three seconds.
Real love is boring.
It’s the quiet decision to stay when things are annoying. It's the mundane reality of deciding who is going to take out the trash or how to split the bill when one of you is broke. If you’re looking for a dictionary definition, you’re looking in the wrong place. Love isn't a noun. It’s a verb, and a pretty exhausting one at that.
The Science Behind Why We Feel "The Spark"
Let's get clinical for a second because facts matter. When people talk about "what is love to me" in that early, obsessive phase, they aren't actually talking about love. They’re talking about a chemical cocktail.
Anthropologist Helen Fisher has spent decades scanning brains to figure out what’s actually happening in there. She found that early-stage romantic love is basically a drive, like hunger or thirst. Your brain is being flooded with dopamine. It’s a literal addiction. This is why you can’t stop checking your phone and why you feel like you’re dying when they don’t text back.
It’s not poetic. It’s neurobiology.
But here is where most people get it wrong: they think the end of that "high" means the love is gone. In reality, that’s just when the real work starts. The dopamine drops, and hopefully, oxytocin and vasopressin take over. Those are the "bonding" chemicals. They don’t make you feel high; they make you feel safe.
If you can’t distinguish between the two, you’re going to spend your whole life chasing ghosts.
The Attachment Theory Trap
You’ve probably heard of attachment theory. It’s everywhere on social media right now, mostly because people love putting themselves into boxes.
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Psychologists like John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth pioneered this stuff back in the day, and it still holds up. Whether you’re secure, anxious, or avoidant determines your entire perspective on "what is love to me."
If you grew up in a house where affection was earned, your version of love is probably going to feel like a high-stakes performance. You’ll be the "anxious" one, constantly seeking reassurance. If you were taught that emotions are a weakness, you’ll be the "avoidant" one, pulling away the second someone gets too close.
It’s a mess.
Most of us are walking around with these subconscious blueprints, trying to build a relationship on a foundation we didn't even choose. Recognizing your blueprint is the only way to stop building the same crumbling house over and over again.
Why Love Isn't About Finding Your "Other Half"
The idea of a "soulmate" is actually kind of terrifying if you think about it. If there is only one person out of eight billion who can make you happy, the odds are basically zero.
Plato had this myth about humans being split in half by Zeus and spending eternity looking for their missing piece. It’s a nice story. It’s also total nonsense.
Healthy love isn’t about two half-people becoming one. It’s about two whole people deciding to walk in the same direction. When you rely on someone else to "complete" you, you’re not in a relationship; you’re in a hostage situation. You’re putting the entire burden of your happiness on someone else’s shoulders. That is a lot of weight. They will eventually drop it.
What Is Love to Me: The Difference Between Sacrifice and Compromise
People use these words interchangeably. They shouldn't.
Compromise is healthy. It’s deciding to watch a documentary when you really wanted to watch a sitcom because you know your partner had a rough day. It’s finding a middle ground on where to live or how to spend money.
Sacrifice is different.
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Sacrifice is giving up your core identity, your dreams, or your self-respect just to keep the peace. That isn't love. That’s martyrdom. And let’s be real: martyrs are usually pretty miserable people to be around.
In a real, functioning relationship, you shouldn't have to shrink yourself to fit into the other person's life. If "what is love to me" means losing "me," then the math doesn't work.
The Boring Parts Nobody Posts on Instagram
The "lifestyle" of love isn't a series of sunsets. It’s a series of Tuesday mornings.
It’s realizing that your partner has a really annoying way of chewing. It’s dealing with their family during the holidays when you’d rather be literally anywhere else. It’s the silence that happens after a big fight when you’re both too tired to keep arguing but too stubborn to apologize yet.
This is where the "choice" part comes in.
Love is a decision you make every single morning. Some days it’s an easy choice. Other days, you have to grit your teeth and choose it anyway.
The Gottman Institute, which has studied thousands of couples over forty years, found that the biggest predictor of a relationship's success isn't how often they have sex or how much money they have. It’s "bids for connection."
If your partner points at a bird out the window, do you look? That’s a bid. If they make a dumb joke, do you laugh? That’s a bid.
Small. Mundane. Vital.
Navigating the Digital Age of Disposability
We live in a "swipe" culture. If something isn't perfect, we think we can just upgrade. This has fundamentally shifted our understanding of "what is love to me."
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When everything is replaceable, nothing is valuable.
The paradox of choice—a concept popularized by psychologist Barry Schwartz—suggests that having more options actually makes us less happy and more likely to regret our decisions. We’re so busy wondering if there’s someone better out there that we forget to actually be with the person who is right here.
Commitment is the ultimate act of rebellion in a world that tells you to keep your options open.
Actionable Steps for Redefining Love in Your Life
If you’re feeling lost or like your relationships are constantly hitting a wall, it’s time to stop looking at the other person and start looking at your own definition of the "L" word.
1. Audit your expectations.
Sit down and write out what you think a partner "should" do. Be honest. If your list looks like a script for a romantic comedy, throw it away. Real people cannot compete with fictional characters written by a team of screenwriters.
2. Learn your "bids."
Start paying attention to how you respond to small moments. When someone you care about reaches out—even for something trivial—try to turn toward them instead of away. It builds a "bank account" of trust that you’ll need when things actually get hard.
3. Define your "non-negotiables."
There is a big difference between a preference (they should like jazz) and a value (they should be honest). If you’re compromising on your values to keep a relationship alive, you’re actually killing your future self.
4. Stop waiting for the "feeling."
The feeling comes and goes. It’s like the weather. You don't leave your house just because it started raining; you grab an umbrella. Learn to act with love even when you aren't "in love" at that exact moment.
5. Practice radical honesty.
Most relationship problems are actually communication problems masked as something else. If you can’t say "this hurt my feelings" without fearing the relationship will end, the relationship is already on thin ice.
Love isn't a mystery to be solved. It’s a skill to be practiced. It’s messy, it’s inconsistent, and it’s often very quiet. But once you strip away the fluff and the fake expectations, what’s left is something much more durable than a movie script. It’s the actual, tangible experience of being known—and staying anyway.