Some say it’s when you love someone that you feel the most alive. When the thrill of romance feels like the panic that sets within you on date nights or that adrenaline you get during spontaneously-planned evening strolls.

And I suppose it’s true, given how restless anyone’s heart would be in such times. But eventually, I’ve come to realize that, perhaps, love is at its peak when it’s undeniably boring. 

When it stretches time to different ends that it starts to feel endless, bending the temporary to what will later be known as unforgettable. Or when tiny specks of intimacy light a fire on your fingertips from the smallest of touches a couple could ever share.

One could argue, loving is the liveliest when it feels like it’s not.

There’s less of an exhilaration in hearing about the mundanity of how each other’s days went, in what woke them up in the middle of a good night’s sleep, or in the specific blend of coffee they had before meeting you later that day.

And yet, it’s that turnout of soft exchanges that makes loving someone feel so fulfilling. It’s a love that neither rushes nor catches you by surprise. It’s just there, hidden within the crevices of cherishable moments you both transformed from the most uneventful of times.

There’s a unique charm in chasing those romantic highs, but perhaps, and arguably so, love is most present when it is dragging and boring. 

Because boring love is unmoved and it stays wherever it is found, like a reminder of home that tells you when it’s time to slow down.

- Gerlu Elardo, from the anthology “Love, Maybe”

(Layout by Ysh Aureus/FEU Advocate)