Is it a fancy or a feeling?

I thought I knew what love was, once upon a time. I felt it burn within me, and was glad for the exhilaration. But then I never realized my heart could get broken so severely and so fast, either. Since then, I've had to rethink my idea of what love really is, end even if I've ever really loved.

With all this talk of Valentine's Day—diamonds, chocolates, roses, and countless other gifts that supposedly mean you are loved—I wonder sometimes if I haven't bought into the common perception of love. When a man loves you, the story goes, he will do anything for you. You are his sun, his moon, his stars. Never mind that he has a life that goes on without you and you are only a part of the great whole. No, he must drop everything to be at your side, shower you with presents, and constantly whisper sweet nothings in you ear, or he does not really love you.

Have I experienced this kind of love? No, not by a long shot. Will I ever? Maybe. But do I really want it? I can't say that I do.

I want someone who loves me for who I am—flaws, imperfections, quirks, and all. I want someone who is willing to tell me when I'm being a fool but love me all the same. I want a relationship that can stand up to burnt dinners, foolish mistakes, and protracted silences. I want someone as imperfect as me, but who wants to be better because I want to be better.

Love isn't a perfect thing or idea or feeling. It changes, it grows. It waxes and wanes. But most of all, it fits the characters and passions of those who possess it.

I have to remind myself that, though I long for a storybook romance, it's not likely to ever happen because it wouldn't be me. And it probably wouldn't be the man I fall in love with either. Love at first sight isn't my style. I just don't have it in me to be sappy sweet lovey dovey all the time. I would end up disgusted with myself more likely than not.

What I need is a best friend. A companion. A confidant and lover. He needs to cheer with me when I'm up but there to carry me when I'm down. I need someone who will sit with me as I read and won't mind that I constantly interrupt his own reading with a funny tidbit or philosophical commentary from my book. I need someone who is continually learning, but who, more importantly, appreciates my own passions.

All my foibles with love have taught me that love isn't a one-size-fits-all deal you can pick up at the nearest Wal-Mart. It is individualized, it grows, it changes with the people we are and will become.

I wouldn't want the juvenile adoration Romeo and Juliet clung to till the bitter end, nor would I want the bond-breaking passion or Lancelot and Guinevere. I need the love that fits me. I'm realizing now that I might not figure out which type of love I need until I find the person who completes it—and me.

Until then, I keep loving: myself, my friends, my family, and all those I meet. It's good practice for the love that I'm hoping will eventually come.