I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately. Maybe it’s because I’m back with Stephanie. Maybe it’s because I went to a wedding this past weekend. Or maybe it’s none of those things. Maybe it’s because love is always on my mind. It’s a mystery to me and I’m constantly trying to figure it out. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any real success.

It’s a tough question, really: what is love? Teenagers fall “in love” and the first thing their parents tell them is, “It’s not real love”. Well, what is real love? And if adults know what real love is why do millions of them around the world fall in out of “love” every day, sometimes on the same day? Or do they? I mean, are they really falling in and out of love or is it something else entirely? I don’t have the answer to that question, I’m just wondering… Can’t there be a true definition of the word love? Something that we can understand and identify with? Something we can look at and say, “Yes, this is what I’m feeling. Right there, that’s it. I’m in love.” I think it would save us from all the divorce and the heartbreak. I mean, I truly believe that love is eternal. So, if everybody that ever married was truly in love… See where I’m going?

Unfortunately that definition doesn’t exist; our hearts are left to decide what is and what is not love and often times we get it wrong. I sure haven’t been able to figure it out. I think I have discovered a little about what love is not.

I don’t think love is the desire to be with somebody. I think if you love somebody you desire to be with them, but I don’t think that desire is love. If you’re separated and it kills you, that doesn’t mean you love somebody. You may very well love them, but that isn’t how you know. Many times people get married - I see this in the military a lot, heck I did it - just to be with a person. They can’t stand the thought of leaving them behind…so they marry.

I don’t think love is feeling nervous when the person is around. If you’re hands sweat, or if you get all jittery and your words stop making sense when a person of the opposite sex is next to you, that doesn’t mean you love them. I was watching The Bachelorette the other night, (I should say Stephanie was watching it, I sat there and tried not to laugh…unsuccessfully) and the guy who won said he knew he loved her and continued to try and “prove it” by saying, “My hands are sweating right now”. I don’t see how that is love….

I also don’t feel that physical and emotional attraction is love. That’s why I don’t really believe in love at first sight. You can be attracted to somebody physically, but - and I shouldn’t have to explain this - that isn’t love. You can also be attracted to them emotionally. Your heart can skip a beat when you’re with them…but that isn’t love either.

I don’t think that any of those are love, at least not individually. I could of course be wrong; I have no idea what a true definition of love would be. The closest I can come up with, and the more I think about it the more I believe it, is that love is the desire or willingness to give to and/or give up for a person. Family members give to and give up for each other. Parents give to their kids all their lives, and later on kids give to their parents, perhaps by inviting the parent to live in their home. Friends give to each other: they give gifts, they give up time, they offer advice.

It’s the same thing with personal relationships with the opposite sex. I think you love somebody if you want to give to, and more importantly give up for, that person. Are you willing to give up space? Time? Money? Property? Are you willing to give up comfort to make them happy? If so, and if you’ve really thought about what that means, I’d say you love that person. Perhaps you don’t, I don’t know…but I think so.

The most popular verse in the Bible, John 3:16, is a good example. It says “God so loved the world he gave His only begotten son…” It doesn’t say He so loved the world that He got all nervous and His hands sweated when they prayed. It doesn’t say He so loved the world He couldn’t stand being separated from them. It says He gave…and He gave a lot…His only son.

I don’t know. I guess it’s weird that I think about things like this. But I’m glad I do. I know how much I want to give up for Stephanie, and it comforts me knowing that. I feel, for once, that I truly do love. I don’t have a definition to compare my feelings to, but I do have some thoughts on what love is and it helps. Maybe they’ll help you. Maybe not. But I’m glad you read them anyways…

This post will be only and entirely about love…true love, awesome love, the kind of love that makes you write dumb blogs about love. If you hate reading this kind of stuff, or if you just plain don’t believe in true love, you are welcome to click the back button on your browser…or, if you so wish, you can read on…maybe you will come out a believer.

Everyone knows I am in love with a girl named Stephanie. If you don’t you probably don’t know me or you’ve never talked to me in person. If you had talked to me in person you would know, sometimes I literally don’t shut up about her. To be honest, I can’t help it…she’s just that amazing.

So I will skip ahead, confident that you know these three things:

1. I am in love with Stephanie. 2. We’ve been together for a year. 3. I want to marry her.

…so I thought I would get down on one of my bad knees and ask her.

Combat Skills Training, the oh so fun Army training I’ve been taking the past five weeks, was supposed to end on the 19th of December. Thankfully the Army realized they had us there too long and let us go home a week early. But what kind of a man would I be if I told the truth and let Stephanie know I was coming home early? You’re right…it was better to lie. And lie I did.

I lied so good that when I showed up at her work to take her out to dinner a week earlier than I was supposed to be home she had a big ‘ol smile on her face and walked toward me to give me a big hug and say hello. Only thing was, I didn’t let her hug me. Instead I dropped to one knee and said something that didn’t sound anything like what I had practiced and then asked her to marry me. Thankfully, she said yes. And then everybody started crying, which was kind of cool.  I was still too nervous to cry, so I just stood there with a huge smile.  I was just happy that I would be spending the rest of my life…with the love of my life.

So there. That’s the short and sweet of it. I proposed. She said yes. I am…scratch that…we are…so very happy.

Last but not least. When we got home last night after dinner and all the jazz, Stephanie gave me a movie she made on her computer. Nobody’s ever given me anything like this before and if I would have been more of a man I would have let myself cry, but instead I smiled…big and happy, large and sappy.

Here is the video. I hope you like it like I liked it.

Christmas/One Year Video

I took my girlfriend, Stephanie, to The Melting Pot this weekend. In case you don’t know, The Melting Pot is a really nice fondue restaurant. The type of place where you leave feeling stuffed, sick even, yet wanting more. I also bought her a nice bracelet, the first time I’ve bought her any type of jewelry. The night was a blast, we sat in a private area of the restaurant and were able to smooch like teenagers while the food was in the fondue. She was really happy with the evening, which, in turn, made me happy. I just wish I would do it more often.

I think sometimes the guy (or boy?) in me comes out, and I forget how lucky I really am. I settle for Chili’s or home-cooked Mac and Cheese and a rented movie. I wear shorts with socks, scratch my butt and forget to brush my teeth. It’s disturbing. I’m sure all guys do this, and some, the ones who wish I would shut up, are perfectly content with it. We shouldn’t be, or at least I know I shouldn’t be.

I’m probably the luckiest the guy in the world. You know the guy you see walking around in the mall and you say to yourself, “Why is she with him?” That’s me. Yet, every once in a while I act like I’m the prize. I’m totally not. I hope I never forget that. Here’s to more night’s out and evening phone calls just to say hey, I love you. I really do.

In other, less important, news:

You ever hear a song that you used to love when you were a kid and then listen to it over and over and over again, expecting it to get old…yet it doesn’t? This song is that song for me:

P.S. I’m addicted to Heroes. Oh well, at least it’s not The O.C….anymore.