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I wrote this a while ago:
Real love is a lot of things. It's the difference between a girlfriend you can tell about your day, and a girlfriend you can tell about your life. It's the difference between feeling good when you kiss her, and getting that tingle down your spine. But on Saturday night, I discovered that what it really is, is the difference between the hunger for something more, and the hunger for more of something.
You know the feeling, when you kiss someone and you're attracted to her...and the kiss just isn't enough; you want more of her, and you want it to be even better than it is. I thought that hunger was a part of being in love; but it's not. It's the feeling of lusting after her, but falling just short of love. That feeling is commonplace, and it's futile; no matter what you do, no matter how passionately you kiss her or how tight you squeeze her, you'll only want more. And it's not the wanting more that counts. No, on Saturday night I held a girl in my arms, and I knew what it means to really be in love.
At that moment, I didn't want more. I had found more. I didn't want that moment to be better, and I wasn't thinking about taking things further. All I hungered for was more of that moment. I wanted that moment to last forever, just me and her in the world, nothing more and nothing less. And it is that hunger that is love. Not sex, not wanting something better, just wanting that moment to last longer. Just another minute, another second with her.
Just the rest of your life, in that embrace.
__________________
Strewth
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