I am a timid person I suppose in a way that makes it difficult to feel passion for me. There isn’t a great deal of passion that anyone feels about me, and I suppose this is okay. I am suitable for a life without a great deal of passion one-way or the other. I am a technical writer. Technical writers are (to generalize) completely dispassionate. Writers I believe are almost all angry people, but anger is hardly passion, at least in the way you would think about it. I don’t mean to imply that writers are the type who would load an AK47 and visit the local mall, but I suspect most of the people who do such things aspire to be writers one day. The only thing that defines me is my passion for my woman. I love her more than anyone has loved another person in the history of the world. It sounds grand and silly to say this — because how does a person measure something like “love”? There isn’t really any sensible way to calibrate love, really, although I’ve measured my love for my woman and it is off the charts. Love can be measured by the resting heart rate and how quickly it picks up if you think that your woman is in danger. Love can be measured by creating a baseline of how much weight you can lift while thinking of something that you don’t really feel one way the other about — a night’s sleep, a glass of water, an apple, and then thinking about your woman and lifting weight. The difference was fifteen pounds. I could lift fifteen ponds MORE weight when thinking about my woman then before, and this was a three percent increase. My heart rate increased from 60 beats a minute to 98 beats a minute while thinking about my woman. I cannot draw her because my hand shakes so much. I am sure you think that whomever you love or whomever you think you love or have loved if you are not currently “in” love with someone that the emotion that you felt was probably the same emotion that I feel. You would be sadly wrong. I like things, too. I like a good hamburger and salty fries and a cool drink of soda. I like to draw the soda out of the cup through the straw and stare at the ceiling until the fluid snaps and gurgles in the straw and all I have in the paper cup is ice and a film of soda bits. My stomach feels satisfied with that motion. I am no longer hungry at that point. I am no longer thirsty at that point. And for you that is probably love. Your gut telling you that you have what you need and you have no more needs. You might wrap it around some kind emotional term, such as love, but when I am talking about love, I am talking about falling asleep at night dreaming about what I can do to give her a moment of pleasure. I thought about making her a board game, for instance, of our life together. It I would get the board printed at the Professional Copy and Print and the pieces molded from plastic from someone who knows how to do that kind of work. I would even but a bar code on it, so she wouldn’t get freaked out by my having made it. I would say, Look what I found, and then only later that I had made this board game for her so she could understand my obsession, how deeply I loved her. I’m sure it would be a very special thing for her.