"Child, there are two meanings to 'love',"

he said.

Look up the word ‘love’ and you’ll find that it exists in two functions.

First, as a noun;

for the involuntary instances and absurd affairs. 

This function of love deals with all the ‘At First Sight’s and the ‘Instant Connection’s; all the ‘Swept Off My Feet’s and the ‘Took My Breath Away’s. There never has to be a reason or a prerequisite. This type of love comes in moments; in waves. This type of love is chemical.

The first time I fell in love (noun) with you, I was blindsided. I’d hardly known you. I remember thinking how stuffy it was in your stairwell as we talked small – how the weather was erratic, like youth. Then the next minute, you laughed so hard your voice faltered, and my chest throbbed in response like it heard you. And in that moment, I would’ve dropped anything for you. And in the moment after that – I was calling a cab home.

Perhaps that’s why we call it falling in love ‘with’ someone. Because I was ‘with’ you when it'd happened. Yet in that perfect moment, I couldn’t have said that I truly loved you. Not even a little bit at all.

The second function of love exists as a verb;

this type of love is voluntary. 

It deals with all the ‘Love is Blind’s and the ‘Made for Each Other’s; all the ‘Apple of My Eye’s and the ‘One and Only’s. This type of love chooses to forgive, and to fix. It’s a hard worker. And it only comes with time. This type of love is mechanical.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when it was that I began to love (verb) you. Maybe it was after the millionth second chance I gave, or the millionth time I’d showed up at your door when you needed me. This type of love is a choice – to be made over and over again every single day.

I do love (verb) you. I love you through the ‘On the Rock’s and the ‘Trouble in Paradise’s. I love you anyway. But I do also fall in love (noun) with you, every now and then. Without warning; without consent –

as if to remind me that: 

I love you in every sense of the word.