What is Love?

Love can mean a lot of different things for a lot of different people.  In high school I learned that there were 3 different types of love; Eros, Phileo, and Agape Love.  The first being physical love, often referred to erotic love, the second being friendship love, and the third being “unconditional love”.  The idea being that the first two kinds of love could be considered love of condition, it could fade with the friendship or the affair and the third type, Agape, is the kind that is the hardest to achieve because it implies that there are no conditions; it’s a godly love.

This theory of love has been taught for centuries and I’m not here to dispute them on theory rather than to argue that one could love a person, possibly one person, on all three levels.  For instance, you could meet someone and instantly be infatuated with them, Eros.  After your infatuation subsides you begin to see the depths of the person, perhaps you start dating and as you learn more about them the Eros is combined with the Phileo.  After some time more you are in love and committed and this is where the Agape comes in.  You love this person because of who they are, not despite of who they are. 

Mirs and I are listening to some vinyl she found on the side of the street.  Some asshat threw out amazing Funk, R&B, Soul, and Old School Jams like Chaka Khan, the Village People, Diana Ross, and Donna Summers to name a few.  We’re listening Luther Vandross’s 1986 album, “Give me the Reason”  and it instantly brought me back to my childhood.

I grew up in a Victorian mansion.  Did I ever tell you all that?  I did.  It was built in 1903 by an architect I still cannot find online.  The home was beautiful and a truly magical place to live.  Long story short (wait for the memoir) my parents and I moved out of the house in 6th grade.  Almost two decades later they have purchased it again.  There was nothing more magical than me going back to the house of my childhood to babysit my nephews who are growing up in the place that I did.

When I was a girl my parents would host large gatherings of family and friends on the weekend.  My uncles, aunts, and cousins would come.  And those adults who were not related to me by blood but I called “Auntie” and “Uncle” just the same.  The men would work on multiple grills, cooking ribs, chicken, burgers and hot dogs.  There was always enough kool-aide for us kids, and beers for the adults.  The music would billow out from our music room onto our large front porch and we’d dance and sing and play hide and seek while the adults danced, talked, smoked cigarettes and enjoyed life.

One of the songs, I can’t remember the title now, played and I instantly thought of my parents.  They got divorced after twenty-odd years of marriage for about a year.  There were many stresses in their lives, too many for me to understand as their daughter but at the time I was happy my mother was rid of the burden that my father could sometimes bring with his words.  They separated, found their own individual condos, and for a year they were not man a wife.  Until my father came over one night to ask my mother on a date.  They courted, had dates, did the deed while they were dating and one day he popped the question.  Presented my mother with a new ring and asked her to marry him, again.

They’re technically and legally divorced but will be getting married, again, on the same date they did so those many years before I was a thought in their minds.  As much as I don’t understand the things that they do I understand that the underlying emotion must be love.  They are in love with one another because of their faults, their good times and their bad times.  You can’t find it every day and ony a few are lucky enough to experience it.  I feel like I’m one of those lucky ones.


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