Being Loved vs Being "In Love"...

So yesterday, I was talking to my Six-Foot-Six-Mountain-of-Carmelly-Goodness and he told me that a friend of ours and his girlfriend broke up. This sux because I really liked those two together. Anyway, when I asked why, he told me that she had issues with the fact that while he loved her, he was not "in love" with her.

Oh brother...

Now while I try to re-seat my rolling eyes, allow me to explain my opinion about being loved as opposed to being in love. And considering the fact that I'm fucking starving right now, I'm using food analogies. The difference between being loved and being in love is the same as the difference between the main course and the side dishes.

Being loved is like eating a perfectly cooked steak. It's tasty, well seasoned, well rested, nourishing and it sticks to your ribs. It can be and often is, a meal unto itself. Being "in love" is kinda like eating side dishes along with that lovely slab of bovine. Side dishes are great. When done right, they can enhance the taste of the overall meal. But by design, they are not meant to overshadow or diminish the effect of the main course. They can change depending on the mood of the diner. So you had veggies with your steak today; next time you might want fries or something. It's whim food. An accessory and nothing more. Don't believe me? Fine. Let me ask you this: If that $17 steak you order showed up rotten, are you really going to give a shit that the $5 potatoes were yummy? Didn't think so.

My point is that a lot of people put too much stake (no pun intended) in being in love as opposed to loving and being loved. I love my man with 80% of my heart (the other 20% belongs to the Philadelphia Eagles and all things Batman). Whether I'm in or out of love with him at any given time doesn't change that. Quite honestly, we've been too strong for too long (big ups Mary J) to trip on some whimisical shit. We both know better than to get so hung up on the small tasty stuff that our main dish ends up half enjoyed, abandoned, boxed up as leftovers or possibly even given to someone else.

My homie offered her a main course and all she wanted was side dishes...

...Dat's fucked up.