It’s the weirdest thing. We all know exactly what it is until someone actually asks us to define it. Then, suddenly, we’re stuttering. You’re trying to find the words to describe that heavy, warm, slightly terrifying pull toward another human being, but everything that comes out sounds like a bad pop song or a Hallmark card from 1994. Honestly, trying to figure out how to explain love is basically like trying to describe the color blue to someone who has never seen the sky. You can talk about wavelengths and light, but you aren’t describing the feeling of looking up.
People have been failing at this for thousands of years. The Greeks had a bunch of different words for it because they realized one word was too small. Modern neuroscientists look at fMRI scans and talk about dopamine floods. Poets talk about "two souls with but a single thought." But if you’re sitting across from a kid, a partner, or even just trying to wrap your own head around it, you need something better than a dictionary definition. You need something that feels real.
Why We Get the Definition of Love So Wrong
Most of us grew up on a diet of Disney movies and romantic comedies where love is a lightning bolt. It’s dramatic. It’s a rain-soaked airport terminal. But that’s not really love; that’s infatuation, or what psychologists call "limerence." Dr. Dorothy Tennov coined that term back in the 70s to describe that obsessive, "can’t eat, can’t sleep" phase. It’s a biological trick. It’s fun, but it’s not the whole story.
When you’re looking for how to explain love to someone else, you have to separate the "spark" from the "fire." The spark is easy. The fire is the part where you’re tired, the bills are due, and someone just forgot to take out the trash, yet you still feel a fundamental sense of "home" with that person. Love is less of a feeling and more of a series of decisions. It’s a verb.
Actually, it’s a lot of verbs. It’s listening when you’re bored. It’s staying when it’s inconvenient. It’s the weirdly specific way you know exactly how they like their coffee, even if you think the way they drink it is gross.
The Science of the "Cuddle Chemical"
If you want to get technical—and sometimes a little technicality helps ground the abstract—you have to talk about oxytocin. This is often called the "bonding hormone." It’s what happens after the initial dopamine rush of a new crush starts to fade. Researcher Dr. Helen Fisher has spent decades putting people in brain scanners to see what love looks like, and she found that long-term "attachment" love lights up the ventral pallidum. That’s a part of the brain associated with reward and habit.
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Basically, your brain starts to treat the other person like they are a part of you. Literally.
When you’re explaining this to a child, you don’t need to talk about the ventral pallidum. You can just say that love is when someone else’s happiness feels just as important as your own. It’s when their "ouch" feels like your "ouch." That’s empathy turned up to eleven. It’s the biological glue that kept us alive back when we were dodging saber-toothed tigers. We needed to care about each other to survive. We still do.
The Four Greek Flavors of Love
Sometimes one word just isn't enough to cover the ground. The ancient Greeks were actually pretty smart about this. They broke it down into categories that help when you're struggling with how to explain love in different contexts.
- Eros: This is the romantic, passionate stuff. The "I want to kiss you" love.
- Philia: This is deep friendship. It’s the love you have for your best friend where you can talk for six hours or sit in total silence.
- Storge: This is family love. It’s that instinctive, protective bond between parents and kids.
- Agape: This is the big one. It’s selfless, universal love for humanity. It’s choosing to do good for someone else even if they can’t do anything for you.
If you mix these all together, you get a much clearer picture. You might have Philia for a partner but not Eros for a sibling. Seeing it as a spectrum makes it way less confusing.
Love is a Skill, Not a Lottery Win
We treat love like something that "happens" to us. Like we’re walking down the street and—BAM—we fell into a hole called love. But the most helpful way to explain it is to describe it as a skill. You get better at it. You practice it.
Think about the work of Dr. John Gottman. He’s the guy who can watch a couple for fifteen minutes and predict with 90% accuracy if they’ll stay together. He talks about "bids for connection." If your partner points at a bird outside the window, and you look at the bird, that’s a tiny act of love. You’re saying, "I see you, and what matters to you matters to me."
That’s it. That’s the whole secret.
Love is the sum total of those tiny, boring moments. It’s not the jewelry or the big speeches. It’s the "looking at the bird." It’s the "I saved you the last slice of pizza even though I really wanted it." When you explain it this way, it becomes a lot less scary and a lot more achievable. It’s not a magic spell. It’s a way of moving through the world with someone else’s heart in your hands.
Vulnerability: The "Price of Admission"
You can't talk about love without mentioning the scary part. Brené Brown has done some incredible work on this. You basically can't have love without vulnerability. To love someone is to give them the power to hurt you and trusting that they won't. Or, more accurately, trusting that if they do, you'll be okay.
It’s like being a turtle and deciding to take your shell off.
It’s terrifying! Honestly, it’s a wonder anyone does it at all. But the trade-off is that when you’re out of your shell, you can actually feel the sun. You can feel the other person. You can't have the connection without the risk of the sting. If you’re trying to explain love to someone who’s been hurt, you have to acknowledge that. Love isn’t just rainbows; it’s courage. It’s the bravest thing most of us will ever do.
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Practical Ways to Explain Love to Different People
Depending on who is asking, your "script" is going to change. You wouldn't give a lecture on evolutionary biology to a five-year-old.
For a child:
"Love is like a warm blanket for your heart. It’s when you want someone to be happy and safe, and they want the same for you. It’s why I hold your hand when we cross the street and why we share our toys."
For a cynical friend:
"Look, it’s basically just finding someone whose 'weird' matches your 'weird.' It’s a partnership where the goal isn't to be perfect, but to have someone who has your back when things get messy. It's a choice you make every morning."
For a romantic partner:
"Love is when your life feels more complete because you're in it. It’s the fact that I want to tell you about the best part of my day and the worst part of my day before I tell anyone else."
Common Misconceptions to Clear Up
We should probably talk about what love isn't. Because that's where people get hurt.
- Love is not control. If someone says they do something "because they love you" but it makes you feel small or trapped, that’s not love. That’s ego.
- Love is not "fixing" someone. You can't love someone into being a different person. You love the person they are right now, or you don't.
- Love is not enough. This is a hard one. You can love someone deeply and still not be able to live with them. Compatibility and timing matter too. Love is the engine, but you still need wheels and a steering wheel to get anywhere.
The Physical Reality of Connection
Have you ever noticed how your breathing syncs up with someone you love when you're sitting close to them? Or how your heart rate actually slows down when you hold their hand? This isn't just "vibes." It’s called coregulation. Our nervous systems literally talk to each other.
When we are lonely, our cortisol levels (the stress hormone) go up. When we are with someone we love and trust, they go down. Love is a biological regulatory system. It keeps our bodies in balance. So, when you're trying to figure out how to explain love, you can quite literally say it's "health." It’s a way of staying sane in a chaotic world.
It’s the quiet assurance that no matter how bad the day was, there is a place where you are understood. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to be the "best" version of yourself. You can just be.
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Moving Forward: Actionable Ways to Show It
Explaining it is one thing. Doing it is another. If you want to put this into practice, start small. Love is built in the "micromoments."
- Practice active listening. When someone talks, put your phone face down. Give them your eyes.
- Identify their "Love Language." (Shoutout to Gary Chapman). Do they like words of affirmation, acts of service, gifts, quality time, or physical touch? Stop loving them the way you want to be loved and start loving them the way they feel it.
- The 5:1 Ratio. Aim for five positive interactions for every one negative one. This is a Gottman-approved way to keep the emotional bank account full.
- Be specific. Instead of saying "I love you," say "I love the way you always make sure there’s gas in the car for me." Specificity is the enemy of cliché.
At the end of the day, love is just the decision to keep showing up. It’s the most human thing we’ve got. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s quiet, and it’s complicated. But it’s also the only thing that really makes the rest of the noise worth it. Stop looking for the perfect words and just start looking for the tiny ways to be kind. That’s usually the best explanation there is.
To truly understand the depth of this connection, pay attention to the silence between the words. Notice the comfort of a shared meal or the way a hand feels in yours during a difficult conversation. These are the tangible markers of an abstract concept. Start by noticing one small thing your partner or friend does today that makes your life easier, and acknowledge it. That's love in its simplest, most honest form.