The beauty of love is that it grows with you. It aches with you. It becomes boring but still beautiful, calm yet quietly exciting.
As a millennial, we are all suckers for cinematic love. Devon Sawa in Casper asking, “Can I keep you?” A Walk to Remember with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” As I inch closer to 40, I can say with certainty that my favorite line will always be from The Notebook: “I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year.”
Let me tell you why.
Love shifts with every phase of life. There was a time when love meant being picked up from home and taken out on a fancy date. Later, it meant being picked up after reckless nights out with friends. Somewhere in my twenties, love became about who would stay. Now, in my late thirties, love means home.
The beauty of love is that it grows with you. It aches with you. It becomes boring but still beautiful, calm yet quietly exciting. I found the kind of love that steadies me, love without judgment, love that saves. I found it at 27, on December 15, 2015, agreeing to a date to watch Star Wars in the cinema. I cannot even tell you which one it was, and no, Hayden Christensen was not there. Sad.
Love in real life
Over time, I learned that love is nothing like what the movies portray. There is no neatly wrapped happily ever after. It is more like a long running series, unfolding season after season. Some episodes are uneventful; others are intense. You stay not because every moment is thrilling, but because the story is worth continuing. Sometimes it even feels like suspenseful, much like the crime documentaries we all binge and cannot stop watching.
In 2023, love redefined itself for me. Nothing prepares you for the unraveling that comes with losing your mother. Grief splits you open and drags you into depths you did not know existed. Deeper than the pain of a seven year breakup I once thought was my rock bottom.
Love shows up consistently, even when it is inconvenient. It waits when it needs to. It holds space when words fall short. And when love is real, it never cages you.
Grief leaves you gasping, clinging to air just to survive. And yet life keeps moving. You wake up, put on your work clothes, show up, perform, and become the corporate rock star you need to be just to get through the day. Somewhere between meetings and deadlines, a message arrives: “I love you. I hope you are okay today.” And suddenly, you are grounded again, back to the part of you that is trying so hard to hold itself together.
“I’ll come home late, babe. Sorry.” Probably as annoying as hearing Dilemma by Nelly and Kelly Rowland everywhere in 2002. But he let me grieve the way I needed to. He waited patiently at home. He asked how my day was and listened as I rambled about the Philippine corporate real estate landscape, why placemaking matters, and how the communications industry feels like it is circling back to an analog era.
Related story: How I proposed to my girlfriend during a typhoon
Related story: Love bombs and red flags
Related stories: The millennial groom’s declassified wedding survival guide
We come from different worlds—me in corporate communications, him in foreign service. All that talking was not small talk. It was survival. It was my way of staying afloat.
“Love is patient, love is kind,” according to 1 Corinthians 13:4. It’s a verse many of us remember from Tumblr days, once treated as just another quotable line. But in your late thirties, it lands differently. Much like how Fridays in 2010 meant endless possibilities, while Fridays in 2026 mean a new Tempur pillow, blasting the aircon, and watching Claire Danes in Homeland unpack mental health while still being a kickass CIA agent.
Because love really is patient. Patient enough to wait while you drown yourself in work to avoid the grief. Patient enough to trust that you will find your way back. Love is kind. Kind enough to absorb mood swings and emotional chaos. Kind enough to pull you into a hug when it gets too dark. Kind enough to crack a joke before you fall too far into the abyss. So yes, love is fucking patient. Love is fucking kind.
Love understands timing
This is where I circle back to Noah writing Allie every single day for a year. It was never about the grand gesture. It was about the quiet discipline of showing up with no guarantee of being chosen. It was the patience to wait, and the kindness to let her go. Writing not to demand, not to pressure, but simply to say, I am here.
That is why that line stayed with me. It represents a love that understands timing. A love that respects choice. A love that does not confuse persistence with possession.
Ten years in, I now know the kind of love I need and what it looks like. It shows up consistently, even when it is inconvenient. It waits when it needs to. It holds space when words fall short. And when love is real, it never cages you. It chooses you, while giving you the freedom to choose back.
After a month long break spent with the love of my life, we are back in the home we built. He is on his computer while I doomscroll TikTok cooking videos I will never cook, nursing heavy jet lag but with lighter hearts and big plans ahead. A year that somehow feels gentler after two years of solitude.
Love is how you define it. It is not what you imagined while listening to Britney Spears’ Sometimes. As you grow older, love becomes quieter, simpler, sometimes boring. But it it nourishes you, makes you smile, and comes with a hundred memes sent throughout the day.
This is the love you were waiting for. I found mine. I hope you find yours too.
Related story: 13 clues that, all along, an invisible string ties Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce
Related story: Is this love or just a really good story?
Related story: Being brave enough to say yes to a second chance at love
Related story: Movies in every genre to make you fall in love this Valentine’s Day
