The Greeks had it right. They had four different words for love, not one all encompassing term that could mean something so weak as mild affection, or something so strong that you would do absolutely anything for that person.
No, they were brilliant. They really were. Four terms. Four kinds of love.
Sexual love, which was always what people jumped to when you used the word, even though it wasn't true. A friendship sort of love, brotherly love, love for your fellow man. Love for members of your family. And lastly, the highest form of love. Agape. Unconditional love for a person despite of character flaws or weaknesses, despite how screwed up and awful that person may be, how much they annoy you, and yet you still love them. No one ever thought of that kind of love. And why not? Because you'd think that sort of unconditional love would be the strongest, especially compared to the sexual attraction and passion that was Eros. Sexual love was hormones. Chemicals. Hot flesh rubbing against another as they writhed and danced. But what happened after they left the bed? There would be no heart wrenching panic when you came home and they weren't there, none of that agony felt when they could be in danger, and nothing compared to when you were prepared to give up your life for theirs in an instant, a heartbeat, as long as it took for that impulse to travel from your brain to your muscles to jump in front of them and save their life.
No, that was real love.