Love is not a pink sparkly card.
Love is not a box of chocolates.
Love is not one day a year.
Love is not lingerie.
Love is not a groovy feeling.
Love is not sex.
Love is not candlelight.
Love is not a night out together.
Love is not a bunch of flowers.
Love is not a bottle of bubbly.
Love is not happiness.All this is fake. It is not love. It is romance. It is fake.
Romance? What is it even for?
To remind us of what we are supposed to want.
To help us pretend that we have it.
To help us pretend that what we’ve got is what we want.
To help us forget what we have not got.
To help us forget what we have never had.
This is romance.
Love is respect.
Love is understanding.
Love is decency.
Love is a shared history.
Love is knowing.
Love is caring.
Love is genuine pleasure that needs no props.
Above all, love is a thing that you do: not once a year, but every day.
Because sometimes love is the deeper truth that is mocked by that old con-artist, romance.
And, sometimes, it isn’t.