I haven't had the pleasure of falling in love since I was 14 years old, and four years later, man is it different. At fourteen, I told a "love-of-my-life" boyfriend "I love you," because it seemed like what people did. Four years later I was caught holding back "I love you,"s to save them for the perfect moment. Obviously, the perfect moment is in the moment and was a spontaneous conversation in a ridiculous setting, but it was right. This fall has been harder and faster than ever before, and yet, mysteriously, I'm standing up with a lot less bruises (which is, I suppose, ironic). This particular development came about very quickly and not at all in a manner I expected. It also conveniently happened to coincide with a lot of personal thought about the nature of loving. My boss said the other day "Love is a verb, not a noun," and cognitively, I of course know that, but I have a new goal of always trying to frame it as that. Loving? For a long time. In love? Maybe soon...maybe now?