In Love, Means: In Love
Casual should never be in your relationships.
One thing about living in this day and age is that I will never understand the word “casual”, especially not when it’s paired with love. You can dress it up all you like, soften it with emojis, or give it a modern polish like “casual dating,” but it still lands like an insult to the heart. Even if I pull out my ten-year-old thesaurus, battered and loyal from years of schoolbag bruising, casual and love will never belong in the same sentence.
Because love, real love, is never casual.
Right. Let’s list what love is written in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. It says that love is:
Patient
Kind
Not envious
Not boastful
Not proud
Not self-seeking
Not easily angered
Keeps no record of wrongs
Does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth
Always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres
And in Beauty and the Beast (2017), there’s a lyric in the original soundtrack “How Does a Moment Last Forever” that captures this beautifully:
Through the darkest of our troubles
Love is beauty, love is pure
Love pays no mind to desolation
It flows like a river through the soul
Protects, proceeds, and perseveres
And makes us whole
It’s not something you stumble into because you’re bored or lonely or looking to pass the time. Love—true, enduring, sacred love—is not a placeholder. It is not a rehearsal for something else. It is the performance, the whole play, the curtain call. And when I say in love, I mean it in the full weight of the phrase. I mean I’m all the way in; no one foot out the door, no emotional exit routes. When I love, it is with intent, depth, and fierce clarity.
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I don’t do casual. I can’t. Not because I’m naïve, or overly idealistic, but because I know what I want. I yearn for my beloved, who, yes, may not have entered the scene yet but when he does, I will know. He will not complete me, because I am not half. But he will be the puzzle piece I’ve waited to fit my life with perfect not in flawlessness, but in harmony. We will build something together, something lasting, something eternal.
I’ve written about this before in an essay called On Being Nonchalant, where I made one thing very clear: I will not be detached or casual about the man I love. I will be absolutely chalant. I will overthink his birthday gifts, kiss him in the kitchen just because, and memorize the lines at the corners of his eyes. I’ll learn his favourite kind of silence and make it home. I’ll fight fairly, pray with him, laugh until our ribs ache, and hold his hand like a vow. Because to love, truly love, is to mean it.
The world tries to make love smaller than it is. Easier. Simpler. But love—real love—is not effortless. It demands presence. It demands sacrifice, patience, courage, and honesty. And it is so, so worth it. All the best stories in history and myth knew this. They never celebrated a fling or a flirtation. They exalted love that endured, even when it cost everything.
Maximus, in Gladiator, wasn’t driven by revenge. He was driven by love—for his wife and son, brutally taken from him. Even as he walked toward death, what waited for him was not glory, but a field of wheat and the faces of the ones he loved. Beren, a mortal man, dared to take a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth—not for power, but for the hand of Lúthien. And she, in turn, gave up her immortality for him. Their love was defiant, sacrificial, and eternal. Even in scripture, Jacob worked fourteen years for Rachel. Fourteen years of waiting, labouring, hoping. And yet to him, “they seemed like a few days because of his love for her.” That’s not passive love. That’s proven love. Steadfast, disciplined, and full of longing.
Love, in its truest form, is transcendence. It lifts us out of our selfish instincts and asks us to serve something greater than ourselves. Scripture says it plainly: “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8) Above all. Not when it’s easy. Not once everything is aligned. But always. Love redeems. It restores. It makes us more than we were before.
So no, I don’t want a relationship that’s convenient or cool. I want a covenant. I want to be seen and loved as I am, and to do the same for him. I want to share silence and soup. I want kitchen laughter and hallway kisses, rainy-day movies and long car rides. I want the ordinary made holy because we share it. I want children. I want growth. I want to wake up every day knowing that even if the world breaks me, his arms won’t.
When I say in love, I mean in love through everything: through grief, through fatigue, through childbirth, through debt, through aging, through joy, through the mundane. I want to still be holding his hand when we’re seventy. I want to kiss his temple when he forgets things. I want to laugh with him in our garden, slow-dancing barefoot on the lawn. And when the time comes, if I go first, I want him to wait for me. And if he does, I’ll sit by the window, watching the trees, and wait to see him again.
Because in love means in love. It means vows, not vibes. It means presence, not performance. It means saying, “I choose you,” not once, but over and over, for a lifetime.
I will never treat love like a disposable thing. I will honour it. Fight for it. Build my life around it. Because in a world so frayed with cynicism, the most rebellious thing I can do is love deeply, loyally, and without apology.
I love Gladiator as much as I love The Lord of the Rings. In my next blog, I’ll be diving deep into my thoughts on the movie Gladiator, a film I’ve rewatched countless times over the summer. Yes, even sandwiching it between full-day Lord of the Rings marathons. So, make sure to follow me over on Patreon and subscribe to the Atelier Circle starting at just $2. I’d love to have you there.
