NSSO- The Non-Sexual Significant Other, Friends, and Affection

So, I've had Polyamory Weekly sitting in iTunes for MANY MONTHS now, being a major podcast junkie.  For some reason, however, I never got around to listening until last week.  Seeing as we've actually started the move from being theoretically poly to actually dating, chatting it up online, and (yes) on at least one or two occasions kissing other people, I figured I really needed to start drawing in as much information and guidance as possible.  If you haven't noticed yet, I'm serious about researching any major life changes I make, especially since this one directly impacts a relationship that is the most fulfilling and beautiful, heartfelt and genuine, loving and magical that I've ever had, and one that I'd like to keep forever.

My phone is set to sync the most recent episode, which as of last week just happened to be a re-podcast of an old episode about Introverts vs. Extroverts.  This was actually quite helpful, as I'm (mostly) an extrovert (although I have my moments where I've finally been tapped out and just need to crawl into a hole to hide), and my husband is (mostly) an introvert (although he enjoys spending time one-on-one or in small crowds with our tiny band of close friends).  We have, of course, over the 12+ years we've been a couple, sorted out how that all looks in our relationship and worked out something that meets both of our needs in terms of social interaction.  I can still see how that might be a new challenge to sort through as we start dating new people.

But that, actually, wasn't the most interesting thing in that podcast for me.  There was a movie review of Carrington, by Joreth of The Inn Between (who has a handful of reviews of poly-ish movies on her site).  Her review was interesting (and I've since seen the movie thanks to Netflix), but one thing stood out in the review-- the concept of the "Non-Sexual Significant Other," or NSSO.  Lucky for us, Joreth also has a glossary of poly terms on her site (and I highly recommend giving it a look-over when you can if you're unfamiliar with poly):

NON-SEXUAL SIGNIFICANT OTHER (NSSO): Someone who fulfills the role of a Significant Other or a romantic partner, but does not include a sexual relationship. Usage: This is not a very common term because many people view a relationship without a sexual content to be "just friends" even within the poly community. However, some people do seperate different forms of love and emotional connections from sexual relationships, and often believe they have a "romantic" or intimate relationship with another person that, for whatever reason, does not include sex. This may include a relationship that resembles a romantic relationship in all ways except, for medical reasons, those involved are not capable of having or choose not to have a sexual relationship.

This idea intrigues me, not because I'm not into having sex with significant others, but because I do believe that over the years, I may have had a few extremely close relationships that were clearly "more than friends," while not being sexual in nature.  While I wouldn't necessarily call them "romantic," they were kind of flirtatious and playful.  One, well over a decade ago,  was with a gay man when we were both single.  One, also a decade or so ago, was with a married mom friend of mine who (along with her son) became like family to our family.  Another was with a single girl friend, and one has been with a married guy friend (whose family was not poly).  None of those were particularly complicated or weird, with the possible exception of the married guy friend.  In that case, the weirdness was overcome by the fact that I was fully aware that people can have loving, emotionally intimate relationships with more than one person at a time without it meaning less love for the "primary" partner (as I was already beginning to think seriously about poly at that time), and I took time to get to know his wife and connect with her in a positive way.  Plus, I have this thing about not wanting to help people cheat (similar to the thing my friend had about not wanting to cheat); this made it much, much easier to keep things platonic, which we did, even as an extremely close friendship developed.

All of that is not to say that I have unintentionally had an NSSO before (because I haven't), but to say that I can see how it could happen, and how it could meet people's needs, even if in a way that isn't culturally normative.  For starters, obviously even people who identify as asexual could be in loving relationships, even polyamorous ones.  Secondly, I actually enjoyed Carrington and loved the interplay between the characters.  I read a few descriptions of it online as a movie about "unrequited love."  I think people who wrote those reviews have a far-too-narrow definition of love.  One movie description goes so far as to say that Carrington's unrequited love for Lytton "ruined her life and ended in tragedy."  This I don't buy for two reasons.  First, any damn fool who watches the movie can tell that (at least as they are portrayed in the movie) Lytton clearly loved Carrington deeply, and enjoyed his unusual partnership with her.  Did it meet their every need and fill every aspect of partnership for them?  No.  But it was still a meaningful relationship from which they both benefited, and in which they both received love.  Secondly, that paints the picture that she hopelessly pined after him, thus causing the tragic end.  SPOILER ALERT (skip to the next paragraph if you don't want to know the ending)...  What actually happened is that Lytton dies from cancer, and on his death bed yearns for Carrington's love, and after his death, she commits suicide from the grief of losing her partner.  What if they had been a traditional couple, married for years?  Would anyone, upon hearing that a wife of 15 years had been through watching her husband endure a painful and horrific death had then killed herself to escape her unbearable grief, then go on to ridicule her choice?  We might not agree with it, either in her case or in general, but we would understand her grief.

All of which brings me to sex and romance.  Does sex define which relationships matter and which don't?  Is a non-sexual relationship only acceptable, valid, and recognized if it is seen as something that is the preparation for a later sexual relationship?  What about romance?  What is "romantic" and what isn't?  Holding hands?  Giving a hug?  Stroking someone's hair?  Leaning into each other on the couch?  Sharing your secrets?  Kissing a cheek or forehead?  It seems that the line between "what friends can do" and "this constitutes a romantic relationship" is nebulous and arbitrary.  On the one hand, when romantic partnership is desired by one or both partners, it makes things feel complicated-- at what point should we call it a Relationship?  On the other hand, when platonic is the goal (either because of orientation or monogamy status, or some other issue), there's always the dance of "how much is okay?"  You try to balance doing what feels natural in the friendship and allowing appropriate expressions of love and caring with not doing more than is "safe" (emotionally, socially, or physically) and making sure everyone's boundaries are honored.

And I think some of this is real, and important, and valid.  I do not WANT to be in anything resembling a romantic relationship with someone, male or female, who is in a monogamous relationship, and will act in a way that honors their important life commitments.  Just as the romantic, crushing part of my brain seems to shut off and not work on friends whose orientation does not match with mine (gay men and straight women), so it turns off for people I know are in monogamous relationships.  There is no crushing.  There is no fantasizing.  While there might be love, expressions of it are kept safely within the boundaries that help me to maintain the friendship in a safe way.  I can love people with whom I would not or could not have a sexual relationship; It is very rare that I end up with a crush on one.

Still, a lot of this platonic vs. romantic rule-making seems silly to me.  Am I too idealistic in just thinking people can just be friends, the kind of friends that the friendship naturally develops into, and express love in ways that feel respectful, kind, and compassionate, without fearing that there is some kind of ulterior motive or hidden meaning inferred from their actions that wasn't actually part of the intent?  I dunno, I can see how that can work (in friendships where you know your friend operates in a very loving and affectionate way and that it doesn't mean they're trying to rope you into something).  I can also see how that wouldn't work (if a friend has a history of using lovey-dovey behavior to open the door and then launch a romantic sneak-attack on you when you least expect [or want] it).

Either way, the fact stands that I love my close friendships, and this, honestly, is how I prefer my friendships to be.  While there are some people with whom I know on a spiritual level I am supposed to be friends, even if it isn't (yet or ever) looking like the way I'm used to my friendships looking, I tend to be uninterested in superficial connections with people.  I like the long talks, the hugs, and the love.  At this time, I have around 8 close friends (although 4 of them do not live local to me) with whom I have that kind of intimacy.  Visits and phone calls are ended with "I love you," we call each other "honey" and "sweetie" and "love," and would be each other's 3 am friend, should one ever be needed.  I have one more friend with whom I feel that same level of love, but I'm still not sure where I stand with him (as he's not very expressive about lovey feelings with friends, that I've seen).  And I have a handful of other friends where some level of hugginess and affection is the norm, if not the overt "I love you" type.  As far as I can tell, this is a good thing.  Love is good.  Letting other people know you care about them is good.  Reaching into each other's lives, if even for a period of time, to love and be loved even in a non-sexual or non-romantic way is good.

Any relationship, sexual or non-sexual, has the weight and power that you give it.  If it is a friendship, then it's a friendship.  If it's family, then it's family, whether related by blood or not.  If it's a significant other, then it's a significant other, even if it doesn't fit society's definition of SO.

And if the opportunity for a loving and committed relationship with someone who will not or could not be sexually involved with me were ever to present itself, I don't think I'd reject that opportunity just because it wouldn't fit a pre-defined expectation of what a relationship should be.

I know there are a few of you who actually read this.  You've let me know without officially following the blog, liking it on facebook, or commenting.  But this is something I'd love more thoughts on.  Comments welcomed, even if you don't want your username shown (though you'll still have to wait for me to approve it).

Mythbusting: Bisexual =/= Polyamorous

Recently, I was talking to a good friend about a woman in whom I was interested and some of the issues that meant navigating.  After a while my friend, who identifies as gay and at least says he'd never be interested in polyamory, commented, "Wow, I'm really glad I'm not bisexual."

At the time, we had both been drinking so I didn't bother to clarify, but I thought about it a bit more and realized: It is a common misconception, and one I've encountered frequently among people who identify strictly as gay or lesbian (but not bi or omni/pan), that bisexual means non-monogamous.  Before getting married, I cannot count the number of times I'd have a woman to whom I was attracted turn me down saying, "I'm really into you, but I just don't want to have to share you."  This, before I had ever heard the word polyamory or ever considered ethical non-monogamy as a lifestyle.

It's just not fair.  When I'd approach a woman, I'd get the "I don't want to have to share you" or "what if you leave me for a guy" reaction.  When I'd tell a guy I was into or newly dating that I was bi, I'd often get either the same response, OR the "hey, cool, can I watch?"  Watch what?  Us in the mirror?  At that point in my life, all I wanted was to find someone nice, settle down, and be happy.  The idea that I had to have BOTH a man AND a woman at any given time just because I was bi seemed absurd, and still does, actually.

But then, I remember.  I remember a guy in a bar trying to talk me into following his wife into the restroom to ask for her number.  I remember one of my best friends being asked by her bi girlfriend's boyfriend to join them for a wild night because, "hey-- it's her birthday, and this would be the best present ever."  I remember being invited MYSELF a few times to join someone as their human sex toy, because "my husband allows me to get some action on the side as long as he gets to be there."  (I declined, by the way, and quite grouchily.)

I can totally get how some people mistakenly assume bi=poly (or open marriage, to be more specific).  There are enough straight folks out there pimping out their partners for their own enjoyment, and bi folks out there using that as an excuse to be non-monogamous (ethical or otherwise), it makes sense.  Plenty of folks looking for the perfect Mythical Bi Babe who can fulfill all their Unicorn Relationship Fantasies-- all sex, no emotion, be satisfied with the fact that you get to have sex with us with no level of commitment at all or consideration of your needs/feelings from us.  W. T. F.

And really, I'm not opposed to Unicorn Relationships, if that's what's meeting everyone's needs.  I once had someone tell me she enjoyed dating a couple and knowing it was secondary because she wasn't in an emotional place to have a strong primary relationship but didn't feel a need to be alone.  I'm also not opposed to someone being an occasional human sex toy, if that's meeting their needs and sex for sex's sake is the goal.  As long as what is happening is mutually respectful, meeting everyone's needs, and not keeping anyone from finding their own unique joy, I'm down with consenting adults doing what works for them.

But for the love of Zeus, can we please just abandon this fantasy that someone having the capacity to be in relationship with someone of either gender means that they WILL BE, no matter what?  If someone who is bi asks you out or comes on to you, don't be afraid to ASK if they are looking for something exclusive or open instead of just assuming.  If you ARE bi and doing the open or poly thing, make sure you don't misrepresent yourself and cause lots of lovely monogamous bi folks a lot of stress by presuming to speak for all bisexuals.

I don't struggle with the emotional and practical challenges of attempting to have multiple relationships because I am bi, pan, or omnisexual.  I struggle with that because my husband and I have allowed our marriage to be opened up, not just to cheap sex, but to polyamory, loving other people, and dating.  Sometimes that's with someone who identifies as a woman.  Sometimes that's with someone who identifies as a man.  But it's because I'm poly, right?  For almost 12 years, we've been monogamous without any unfaithfulness, and it wasn't a hardship for me to miss out on women, any more than it's a hardship for a hetero person to be monogamous for that long.

Orientation does not define my relationship structures.  I do.

No Expectations, No Hard Feelings

One of the trickiest things I've discovered yet about polyamory is negotiating the beginning parts of a relationship. How do you let someone know you're interested? How do you let them know you aren't if they express that they are? How do you let someone know you're looking to take things in the present moment, one step at a time, but open to wherever they lead? How do you let someone know you've thought through future possibilities and are open, but not hung up on how it all turns out?

It's probably sensible at this point to say that I sucked at this part of relationships when I was single and dating the first time around, so it should come as no surprise that I'm not particularly smooth at it now. I do, however, have a crapton more confidence and self-esteem, and experience with navigating relationships (platonic and romantic) than I did back then. And one of the things I've learned in 10+ years of partnership is that honesty and truth-telling, even when it's awkward or nerve-wracking, is the most beautiful gift someone can share with you.

What a lovely honor, to have someone trust you enough to reveal that they could potentially care for you in a unique and special way. And what an obligation, to think of the loving way to respond, yes or no or maybe, with heart and kindness and compassion and respect.

I recently saw a discussion among local poly folk about the merits of honesty or a "white lie" if someone is interested in you, but to whom you feel no attraction. Someone pointed out that he felt a "white lie" is often the kindest way out, for self-preservation as well as to protect the other person's feelings.

While I can respect that this person (and others who tell "white lies") has good intentions, I have to disagree with the idea that dishonesty is ever okay. It seems that some people see a dichotomy that puts a truthful (yet possibly undesired) answer as harsh, and a lie as more gentle. I think somehow, we are missing the third option-- a gentle, compassionate, thoughtful response that is honest, yet kind.

I have firsthand experience with this.

Sometime last year, I came to the realization that I was attracted to, already loved, and could easily be in relationship with my closest friend. I let her know I was interested, and open to see where it would go. What happened next was as beautiful as it was unexpected.

She wrote me back-- not that day, but took a couple of days to let the dust settle and reflect on a thoughtful response. A few days later, I got an email that warmed my heart, even as it was essentially a rejection. Lovely feeling #1: Someone cared about me enough to give me a thoughtful response. The response affirmed that there were, in fact, amazingly powerful loving feelings, even feelings of attraction, but that for a variety of practical reasons a relationship would not be likely to meet her needs.  Lovely feeling #2: It isn't always about me, after all.  It's about compatibility and mutual needs.

Instead of being hurt or disappointed by this email, I was overwhelmed with joy that in spite of the awkwardness, our friendship was strong enough to sustain honesty even under challenging circumstances. I was elated, and walked around for days with my head in the clouds, feeling so blessed to have her respond in a way that was both honest and kind.  We still hang out much like we did before, confide in each other, and are like family.

I suppose it might have been different had this not be a close friend, but rather someone I was just meeting. But then, that's one of the things about my particular approach to polyamory-- I'm not all that interested in dating someone without establishing a friendship first. And maybe this experience is a part of the reason why I do feel safer exploring romantic relationships with friends.  With a friend, there is already a shared history that allows each to trust the other in some way, with insights into how the other thinks and feels and processes.  I feel safer approaching a friend about a relationship.  I would feel safer responding to a friend who approached me about a relationship, whether it was to move into closer intimacy, or let them know I wasn't interested.

.....

I used to have a bumper sticker that said, "I'm bisexual and I'm not interested in you."  The idea is, once someone knows you're bi, sometimes you have to deal with all of your friends, male and female, constantly wondering if you're hitting on them.  The end result of this was often one of two things: either people were constantly coming onto me as if bisexual is simply code for "sex-crazed," or people avoiding me in situations that would otherwise be acceptable with a same-sex friend.

While a lot of this has settled down in the years since I've married, I've found a little resurgence of this weirdness since becoming poly.  I'm a very loving person.  I run with a very huggy and touchy-feely crowd.  I have almost a dozen friends with whom phone calls or visits are ended with some variant of "I love you," and it is meant whole-heartedly, but not romantically.  This is what is natural for me, and has been since before coming out to the closest in my circle as poly.  And, all in all, I feel like I've been accepted by the handful of people I've talked to about poly as exactly who I am, not judged, and not treated differently.  But every now and then, I get a weird vibe off of someone, like my husband or I can't be around them, hug them, talk openly and hang out, without thinking they are being hit on.  It's a little unsettling for me, and frustrating, because I'd never in a million years want to lose or sacrifice a friendship due to a flirtatious approach (real or perceived).

A few things to keep in mind with me and my husband, or possibly any poly folk you may know:

1) If we ask you to clarify your intent if it seemed you were coming on to one of us, that isn't necessarily an invitation.  It is what it is, at face value: a request for clarification of intention.  Don't get weirded out.  Just clarify the intention, and the discussion can go from there, either way.

2) If one (or both) of us expresses an interest in you, and it turns out you aren't interested, just say so.  Unlike a lot of suitors I remember from my past, I do take no for an answer, and that will probably be the last you'll hear about it unless you bring it up again.

And for the love of all that's holy, just be honest.  Speak your truth.  As long as there is compassionate honesty, there'll be no expectations, and no hard feelings.

Love vs. Attraction vs. Behavior

A while back, drinking with a friend, I was trying to explain my worldview with regard to relationships and poly, and was struggling to explain how I view love and behavior as different beasts.  Since then, I've added attraction to the mental mix, and the result is this blog post, still a work in progress-- an unfinished reflection on how my mind, heart, and spirit work.


LOVE

I love almost everyone.  Not just like.  Not just care for.  Love.  LOVE-- got it?  Honestly, it's so hard to describe to most people, and I'm not sure that I, myself, could have wrapped my head around what this feels like has someone tried describing it to me a few years back.  Love is just so easy for me.  It flows so naturally into my life, through my heart, and (hopefully) out into the world.  I'm not going to spend a whole lot of time blabbing about the ways I try to manifest (or have manifested) love into the world, because that would be awkward, but suffice to say that the majority of the last 16 years of my life have had service to others, and to improving the world in general, as a prime theme.  I've done paid work in service fields, organized volunteer work, and have (on multiple occasions) reached out to someone when I felt led to extend myself for them in love, service, and solidarity.  Sometimes, it's a small thing-- a kind word, a gentle touch, a ride home from work.  Other times it's a big thing-- a place to stay for as long as needed, a U-Haul full of furniture for a single mom, or a voice on the phone until the police arrive for safe escort out of an an abusive home.  But love is both noun and verb for me-- it is the essence of our connectedness as humans and the feelings that accompany unqualified connectedness with another, and it is the action of that essence expressing into manifest reality.

Some of my favorite writings on love are from M. Scott Peck's The Road Less Traveled (a book I highly recommend).  Peck defines love thus: "The will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth."  He adds, "as defined, love is a strangely circular process.... When one has successfully extended one's limits, one has then grown into a larger state of being.  Thus the act of loving is an act of self-evolution even when the purpose of the act is someone else's growth."  There's a lot more fabulous reflection on love in this chapter-- so much that I can't even begin to touch its intensity here.  Read it.

The ultimate points I glean from this definition and my own reflection upon it are:
- Love is a cosmic, soul-expanding, mind-blowing, indescribable feeling, as well as a chosen action to express.
- Love grows me.  When I love you, I grow.  When I love me, I grow.  When my love for you causes me to extend myself beyond my own comfort zone, within the boundaries of my own mental health and physical and emotional safety, I grow in ways I cannot imagine.

From experience, I can add that this is not an altogether reasonable proposition that can be trusted innately, but that once I began to trust in the process of love, I began to see the ways in which my expressions of love have grown, challenged, and healed me.  There was a time when I was scared of giving love that was misused or not returned.  Now that fear has faded considerably.  I love because it is the right action, not because I have an expectation.  I might still take a little time to sort out what the best way for us to be connected and share love might be (it won't be the same with every relationship, of course), but I'm not afraid of loving you, or me for that matter.

ATTRACTION


While I feel strongly that love is love, all love springs from the same source and can carry the same definition, and that I'm not very good at loving some people more than others, I can tell you that attraction, for me, is separate from love.  I love my partner, my closest friends, my peripheral friends, my kids, my dad, and my coworkers.  I don't lust after all of them.

Love is the same, and love is the underlying nature of the universe.

Attraction is what sets my heart on fire with desire for greater closeness with someone.  Attraction can be a simple longing to know more of someone, to be closer to them, to be more open in what shared love might be there.  I'm attracted to all sorts of people, although I'm not attracted to every person I love.  Usually, I'm also pretty good at keeping my attraction to someone else in check.  If someone is of a gender identity and/or sexual orientation that would make a relationship with me a high impossibility, my attraction will probably never expand beyond a desire to know more of someone or be closer.  If someone is a potential romantic partner (in terms of gender identity and sexual orientation) and lets me know they are not interested in or comfortable with a relationship with me, that's also a deal-breaker.  I'm not much for pining after or longing for someone who doesn't want to partner with me in that way, although I'd love to continue the friendship in whatever way is comfortable.

But if someone to whom I feel attraction expresses an attraction in return, that's when simple attraction to the idea of closeness becomes something more, and becomes desire for intimacy, contact, and physical connection.  It might be slow going (because all omnipolysexuoamorous leanings aside, I'm still pretty old fashioned and cautious), but things do (ideally) start moving in the direction of increased intimacy and trust.

General philosophical leanings aside, I'll add the more personal caveat that I'm not likely to feel much attraction to people I don't know at all.  Attraction, for me, is only minimally influenced by cultural definitions of physical attractiveness, and tends to radiate out from within someone to grab ahold of me at a similarly deep place within me.

All of which bring me to...

BEHAVIOR

No matter what love exists between me and another person, or how attracted I might be to someone, or what the nature of our relationship, love and attraction are still separate issues from any kinds of behaviors.

A few illustrations of this point:

- I love my kids.  I am not attracted to them in a romantic way, obviously.  My expressions of love for them include cooking for them, feeding them, diapering them when they're babies, making choices for them that they are too young to make for themselves, and providing healthy discipline.
- I love my primary partner.  I am attracted to him in a romantic and sexual way, obviously.  My expressions of love for him include (occasionally) cooking for him, helping around the house, picking up special things for him when I'm out, sending intimate (and sometimes kinky) texts and emails to him, grabbing his ass whenever the chance presents or kissing him, making love, and more.  I do not make his choices for him or discipline him (not counting kink-- duh!) even though those are perfectly loving behaviors that work for my kids.
- I love my closest friends.  I am attracted to them in loving ways that sometimes feel romantic and/or intimate, but are rarely sexual.  My expressions of love for them include praying for them (something I obviously do for my kids and partner, too), spending time together, calling, sending texts when things remind me of them, calling or texting when I am wondering how they are doing, and picking up any sweet little things that make me think of them.  I don't do their laundry or housekeeping, even though that's one of the ways I express love to my partner, and although I run in a circle of (potentially awkwardly-) long huggers who are touchy-feeling in our shows of friendship, I don't typically make out with my friends.
- I love people I don't even know well.  I am usually not attracted to them in my normal ways, even if I find them to be physically gorgeous.  I find that the most attractive quality for me in those I am just getting to know is a view of vulnerability as normal and human-- not as something to be feared or hidden.  Usual everyday expression of this love might include learning their names, remembering things they like if they've mentioned them to me, following up about things they've mentioned are on their minds or schedules, and sharing pieces of myself as relevant.  Sometimes, though, I go much farther for those I don't know well, depending on the situation.  If it is in one of my volunteer capacities, in which I do crisis intervention, I step out in the way that I've been trained.  If it is simply an acquaintance or coworker, I assess two main areas: First, are there other people, friends, family, or resources stepping in to help the person crawl out, and second, do I feel personally equipped (skills, emotional balance, energy) to extend myself, step out, and help?  I never help if I feel like doing so hurts me or damages my family.  If it seems like a need, and I feel equipped to step in, I go for it, not out of a sense of hierarchy or better-than-you-ness, but out of a deep awareness of our sameness as humans.  You and me-- we're the same substance.  Why should I not help you, particularly if doing so grows me in the process?

Behavior is the part where relational love is assessed for all it's complexities and facets, and a reasonable course of action is logically determined.

.....

So, for me:
- LOVE is involuntary as a feeling, and beautiful and natural as an intention and action.  It happens in the divine part of me.  I don't do a great job of keeping it a secret, and regularly tell people I love them, particularly if they seem comfortable with the idea of being loved.
- ATTRACTION is complex, and while it can sometimes lead to more, it doesn't always.  It happens in the feeling part of me.  Attraction can be a completely inner process for me, and I can choose whether or not I let you know about it.  The inner-ness of this process provides both a degree of emotional safety for me, as well as a frustration when circumstances seem to conspire against me (which is rarely, if ever).
- BEHAVIOR is a decision for the right things to do based on love, attraction (or lack thereof), and social awareness.  It happens in the thinking part of me, although my intellectual process relies heavily on the strength of my intuition, which I trust almost completely.  Behavior is the outer expression of how I feel about you, combined with what I know about you and how you react in relationships, expressed into our worlds.

And I love you.  And depending on who you are, how you found this blog, and how we know each other, I might even be a little attracted to you.  But none of that has full decision-making over my behaviors with you, which I choose based on a variety of factors.

But I do love you.  What do you say about that?