Supposedly the ancient Greeks had at least seven words for ‘love’.
They had Eros (romantic, passionate), Philia (deep friendship), Storge (familial), Agape (universal or unconditional), Ludus (playful), Pragma (enduring), and Philautia (self-love).
And yet, I bet that whenever you may hear the word ‘love’, the first thing that pops up into your mind is the romantic one. That tender, sweet, intimate, and passionate affection that we, as a society, have romanticised as existing primarily between lovers.
Obviously, these words that I have just listed are not a direct translation. The majority of words and terms that we take from dead languages cannot be fully transported into our contemporary tongues. We just surround them with similar meanings in the hope that we can give and convey through them the same significance that the ancients once did.
But me personally, I think that just the word ‘love’ does a perfect job on its own. I perceive it as such a raw term and expression, and that’s exactly the feeling that I want to transmit with today’s article.
June is here, and so is one of the most romantic months of the year; therefore, what better moment to write about it?
In ancient times—like I’ve introduced with the different ancient Greek words—love was not boxed into categories. It was multifaceted, wild, and often divine. Eros was not seen as more ‘real’ than the others, and every form of love was considered to be and exist everywhere. It was between soldiers, in political loyalty, in spiritual ecstasy, and yes, of course, between lovers.
The Middle Ages are and were frequently seen as incredibly romantic. The Victorians heavily idealised them, and for a good reason. Mediaeval courtly love romanticised passion as a noble pursuit, often unattainable and even painful. These tales, from troubadour songs to Arthurian legends, elevated longing and emotional devotion to almost religious status. But, interestingly, such love was often portrayed as existing outside the bounds of marriage. Love, like even nowadays, was primarily an ideal, sometimes more beautiful in imagination than in reality.
In the Romantic era, perceivable from its title, love exploded in art, poetry, and rebellion. Romantic love became both muse and madness, a justification for breaking norms, crossing continents, and suffering gloriously.
We don’t have period dramas and historical novels for nothing. We long for the longing, and, I mean, with their yearning, their stolen glances, and their soft touches—how could you blame them?
However, as I already wrote, I’m not here to talk about only ‘romantic love’ but that raw, deep, and intense feeling that escapes the boundaries we so adore to give it.
Take divine love, for example. It has always existed. A type of devotion and adoration only faith can give you, and it’s definitely not romantic. Or even in the tarot deck, The Lovers card is commonly mistaken as simply being about romantic love. People see the name and think ‘soulmates’, but it is much more than that and far more layered. It’s about union, choice, harmony, and duality (head and heart, self and other). And it’s first and foremost about alignment, not just with someone else, but with your own values and your soul.
And then, we head towards my most favourite of loves. Although talking about favourites may be wrong, because they’re all important.
Nevertheless, there is a kind of love that exists beyond romance, beyond desire, and beyond the scripts that we’ve been handed, making it, however, no less profound. Platonic love is the meeting of souls without pretence and without performance. It is the recognition of oneself in another, in the presence of a friend, perhaps a sibling or parent, or even a pet. Of course, this is my idea of platonic love, but I feel like most people tend to agree with me.
It is that type of love that asks nothing but loyalty. It endures not because it burns brightly, like passion, but because it holds. It holds through grief, through change, and through everything. Platonic love is completely different from the romantic one, but I feel like it’s much more intimate. To find such a connection is to be known without needing to be explained. And like we typically say nowadays, “To be loved is to be known.”
Not just seen, heard, understood, witnessed, held, or remembered, but to be known thoroughly.
A type of love that I like to call ‘unconditional’. Not because you won’t love anyone or anything else, but because that type of connection, no matter how hard you try, you won’t find it anywhere else.
But if the first love that we all feel in our lives is the one of a parent, a sibling, a pet, a friend, and so on, how come we are so focused on the romantic one? How come it has become the crown jewel of the human experience?
The easy answer would perhaps be the drama, the exclusivity, the intimacy, or the vulnerability of being chosen. The more complicated answer would be that we need it. As humans, I feel like the thing we cannot survive the most without is not food or water but connection. And, more often than not, this connection revolves around the Eros.
Yep, the passionate, fiery, and romantic one.
The great disruptor and the great revealer. The one that draws us out of ourselves, not just towards another body, but towards the possibility of being wholly seen and desired, not only for what we are, but for what we might become together. Romantic love is not for the weak. It demands courage. It’s to be chosen, to choose in return, and to keep choosing even as life changes.
Romantic love, although the most celebrated, is also the most misunderstood. It’s frequently mistaken for possession, obsession, perfection, and a lot more than you can even think. But that’s not it at all.
Yes, it’s the passion that burns in between, but it’s far more than just that. It’s the emotional intimacy, the shared meaning, the companionship, and often, the physical affection.
Historically, romantic love has been mythologised, idealised, commodified, and especially feared. In literature and legend, it typically takes the form of destiny or sacrifice. But in real life, it is far messier and perhaps more meaningful precisely for that.
True romantic love does not promise eternal bliss. Rather, it offers a chance at connection, one that mirrors back parts of ourselves we might otherwise never see.
But let’s dig even deeper. To speak of romantic love without naming queer love is to leave out a vital chapter of its story.
In fact, queer love is part of it in all its fullness, courage, and complexity. It’s that love that had to fight harder to exist, to speak its name, and to be seen as real. In queer love we not only find the same tenderness of connection but especially the radical act of being true in a world that has long tried to silence or distort it.
It is the same. It carries the same longing for intimacy, for recognition, and for belonging, but it also holds within the quiet resilience of those who dared to love despite fear, despite history, and despite hate.
Queer love is not defined by the struggles it had and has to face, but it is shaped by it. However, I think that it makes it all the more human.
It is not some strange variation of love. It is love.
Ha! And to those out there who dare to question it, take a closer look because you don’t even see it. You don’t see how familiar it is. How cliché, even. The yearning to be seen, the hunger to be known, and the joy of being chosen, not despite who you are, but because of it.
You mean to tell me that longing, that rush of connection, that tender defiance isn’t the very heart of romantic love?
Queer love has always carried these things. It is not outside the story. It is part of it, and it is proof that romantic love was never meant to be confined. In fact, queer love may be the clearest expression of what romantic love actually is.
So, after all this writing, what I’m trying to say is that we may think of the passion between two lovers whenever we hear the word ‘love’, but, deep down, we know that it’s much more than simply that.
However, if I’m being truthful, if someone were to personally ask me, “What is love?”, I don’t think I could answer.
I don’t think I’ve met anyone who genuinely can. Love is not something you can pin down. You can give it definitions, and I may answer with the seven types of love I used to introduce this article, but who am I kidding?
It’s too vast, too complicated, and too much.
But one thing I do know, and I know it with every part of me.
Love is love.
That’s just it.
It may be a verb, a noun, a feeling, or a practice, but at the end of the day, love is love.
The very thing that lives within us, in our hearts, and the very thing that makes us courageous, transformative, bold, and deeply, unapologetically human.
Up, The Lovers by René Magritte (1928)
Sources:
When Eros Met Psyche: Types of Love in Ancient Greece
My idea of Love
The Library of the Unseen 
Penny for your thoughts…