The eternal question. Philosophers have cogitated about it, writers have espoused long works dedicated to answering this question, poets have waxed lyrical on this notion and pop stars regularly beseech us to consider it. I like things to the point so I went straight to the dictionary and it defines love as
“A strong feeling of affection”
I am often scathingly criticised that I don’t really love people or that I have no comprehension of love. What nonsense. I feel a massive sense of affection for you when we first meet. In fact, I would wager that the intensity of my feeling for you goes above and beyond what anyone else feels. Why else would I want to spend every moment of every day with you? Why else do I take you to delightful places, furnish you with expensive gifts and shower you with my well-chosen words of affection and desire? I feel an intense connection with you, often from the beginning and that is the catalyst for me burning with passion for you. Who is to castigate me for those feelings? How can it be said that I do not feel love when the way I feel conforms, no, exceeds the definition of love? Do you know what I attribute that to? Jealousy and envy. It is always those who look upon our perfect love and declare that it is false and unreal. What do they know? Nothing. They are just caught up in their own empty and bitter shells, envious that they do not have what we have. I know what I feel for you. I am in touch with myself to such a degree that I m able to express it to you through thought, word and deed. Indeed, many of my former girlfriends have remarked that the eloquence by which I conveyed my love for them was remarkable and unparalleled. So yes I do love. My form of love may not be the same as yours, but then whose is? My version is sweeter, greater and all encompassing.
Just because it does not last does not mean that it is not love. Its ephemeral nature is your fault, not mine.