Think about the last time someone misunderstood you.
They filled in your silence with their own story.
They decided what you meant before you finished the sentence.
It does not feel like love.
It feels like being edited out of your own life.
Love as understanding goes the other way.
To love someone deeply is to strive to understand their experiences, thoughts, and feelings, not just your idea of them.
Your brain is always guessing.
It runs predictions about who a person is, what they will say, what they meant.
That guessing is useful, but it is not always true.
When you really care, you start updating those guesses.
You notice when your picture of them does not match how they are actually acting or speaking.
You ask instead of assuming.
You listen for how their words land in you, and you remember the reverse is true too: your tone and timing land in them.
Love as understanding is not mind-reading.
It is being willing to say, “Help me see this more from your side,”
and actually adjusting when they answer.
Over time, that kind of attention says:
“I am not in love with my fantasy of you.
I am in love with a real person I am still learning.”