Be A Lover
Love Me Stone · Love & Intimacy
I Was Made
to Be a Lover.
I know how I want to be loved. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how I want someone to feel when they’re loved by me.
I know what I would love from a partner.
I know the small things that would make me feel thought of. The affection, the effort, the quiet reassurance. And, of course, those private, intimate moments that belong only to the two of us.
But lately, I’ve been thinking less about what I want someone to give me and more about how I want someone to feel when they’re loved by me.
Do they feel wanted? Do they feel understood? Do they know their heart is being handled with care?
We spend so much time talking about what we’re looking for. By our mid-to-late thirties and beyond, a lot of us have a pretty clear idea. We know our boundaries. We know what didn’t work before. We can name the red flags, the dealbreakers, and the things we’re no longer willing to accept.
There’s a reason for that. Some of those lessons cost us a lot.
But when someone meets us where we are, when they show up with care and consistency, what do we want to offer them?
I want to make room for that conversation, too.
Loving is one of my strengths.
Because I was made to be a lover. I know that about myself.
I want to pour into someone. I want to learn the little things that make their day better. I want to reach for them, be affectionate with them, and let them feel how much I want them around. Loving is one of my strengths, and I don’t want to treat it like something I need to hide to protect my pride.
We talk so much about being a bad bitch. Being independent. Not needing anyone. I understand the comfort of knowing you can take care of yourself. I’m proud of knowing my boundaries and what I’m capable of giving.
But I still want someone. And I want to care for them.
There’s room for both.
“What do you need tonight?”
So many of us are already giving all day. To work, to children, to friends, to everyone who needs something. We come home tired. Sometimes we don’t have much left.
I want a relationship where we can say that. Where caring sometimes looks like asking, “What do you need tonight?” and listening to the answer. A hug. Some quiet. Help with something that’s been weighing on them. A little reassurance that they’re still wanted, even in the middle of an ordinary, exhausting week.
I want us to learn each other well enough to notice things, and feel comfortable enough to ask when we don’t know.
I’m not saying to settle down with someone who takes everything you offer and gives nothing back. I’m talking about someone who meets you with the same willingness. Someone whose care makes it possible for you to soften and give freely.
When you find that, I don’t think you have to be afraid of loving them all the way.
You can have boundaries and still be generous with your heart. You can know your worth and still be attentive to what someone else needs.
Sometimes it feels like we’re all asking to be cared for while being afraid to show how much we’re willing to care.
You Have to Be the Very Thing You Want
And there’s another part of this conversation: how do we expect to receive openness if we’re unwilling to offer any?
If you’re closed off, always holding something back, unwilling to meet someone where they are or take a step toward them, how do you expect them to feel safe reaching for you?
I’ve written about this before, but I think we’re stuck in this nonchalant, selfish era of dating. Everyone wants to be wanted. Everyone wants someone to make an effort. But so many of us are standing there with our hands in our pockets, waiting for someone to take our hand.
At some point, you have to reach.
You have to be the very thing you want. And I’ll admit that for years, I was anything but.
I was in a different place. Maybe I wasn’t being entirely honest with myself about what I wanted, or whether the choices I was making were ever going to get me there. Sometimes it’s easier to keep things on the surface. To act on a whim because something feels right in the moment, even when some part of you knows future you won’t feel the same way.
It’s harder to admit you want something deeply and start making choices that reflect it. Because then you have something to be disappointed about. Then you have to care.
I’ve spent the last two years doing me. Living my life, learning myself, going on some dates, but never really finding what I was looking for.
And I’m finally being honest about what that is.
I want cosmic.
I want the feeling of two souls finding their way home. Past lovers recognizing each other, finding each other again in every lifetime.
Dramatic? Absolutely. But I don’t think I’ve ever been truer to myself.
I Want the Tenderness and the Fire
These days, I can’t separate physical intimacy from the need to feel something for the person in front of me. There has to be something there that makes me want to get closer.
A meeting of the minds. Curiosity. The desire to learn each other. I want to know how they think, what matters to them, what they’re afraid to say out loud. I want them to be just as interested in knowing me.
And yes, I want the passion.
The earth-shaking, stars-bursting, eclipse kind of sex. That pull toward someone where, for a moment, everything else falls away. Where you want each other so badly that close still doesn’t feel close enough.
I want that with someone who is also kind to me when we’re getting dressed. Someone who listens over breakfast. Someone whose thoughtfulness exists outside the moments when they want my body.
That’s the whole desire. The tenderness and the fire, with the same person.
Maybe some people would call me delusional for wanting that much. But what, exactly, is too much?
I’m not talking about their salary or their job title. I’m talking about someone who shows up. Someone kind and thoughtful, who I connect with and have chemistry with. Someone so into me that I don’t have to keep trying to figure out whether they like me.
And I want to give them that same certainty.
I want them to feel desired, appreciated, and cared for. I want to be honest about my feelings instead of expecting them to pull the truth out of me. I want to make the effort I’m asking them to make.
I know loving someone well doesn’t guarantee they’ll love you back. I’ve learned enough to know you can’t give your way into being chosen.
But when someone is reaching for me, I want to be willing to reach back. Sometimes, I want to be brave enough to go first.
I can’t ask for something this honest while pretending I don’t care.
And the truth is, I care. I want the love. I want the closeness. I want the life we would build in all the ordinary hours between those extraordinary moments.
I want someone who wants to be loved because, man, I would love them all the way.
And I want that love to move between us. Some days I’ll have more to give. Some days they will. We won’t always get it right, but I want us to keep paying attention. To keep making the effort to know each other.
I want a life that feels shared. Our own interests, our own selves, and a deep investment in the life we’re building together.