Maybe Love Is Just Showing Up – Especially When You're Sick

There is something incredibly special about the kind of man who looks after you when you’re sick.

Not the kind who sends a quick “hope you feel better x” and then disappears. I mean the kind of guy who actually turns up. The kind who comes to the hospital with you. Sits with you for hours to know first hand that you’re okay. The kind who asks whether you’re comfortable. The kind who brings you apple juice because Apple juice is the best juice and is your favourite since you were a child. The kind who sits beside you while you wait.

And when there is absolutely nothing else he can do, he makes you laugh. There is something about being looked after when you’re vulnerable that makes you see someone differently. Because anyone can be romantic when things are easy. Anyone can take you for dinner. Anyone can buy you flowers. Anyone can send you a good morning text when they fancy you.

But sitting beside someone under fluorescent hospital lights at an inconvenient hour is not exactly the glamorous side of dating. There is no perfect outfit. No flattering lighting. No carefully chosen restaurant.

You are definitely exhausted. Definitely insanely worried. Probably not particularly interested in whether you look good. And yet, he is there. Perhaps that is why it means so much.

Because when someone shows up for you when you are at your least put-together, they are seeing something very different from the version of you that you present on a date. They see the tired version. The anxious version. The irritable version.  The uncomfortable version. The version who doesn’t have the energy to pretend everything is fine.

And they stay anyway. I know most of my pieces talk so much about romantic gestures. The flowers. The holidays. The surprise dates. The handwritten letters. The expensive dinners. But perhaps even I have been looking in the wrong places.

Maybe love is less about what someone does when they are trying to impress you and more about what they do when there is absolutely nothing to gain.  Because there is nothing particularly impressive about sitting in a hospital waiting room. There is no applause. Nobody posts it on Instagram. Nobody looks at you and thinks, What a romantic man.

You are just sitting there. Waiting. And he is choosing to sit beside you. That choice says something. Not necessarily that he is your soulmate. Not necessarily that you have found the person you will spend the rest of your life with. Life is far too complicated to know that from one or two nights in a hospital. But it does tell you something about how he responds when someone he cares about needs him.

And perhaps that is much more important. We often look for love in words. I love you. I miss you. I can’t wait to see you. I’m here for you. Beautiful words. But eventually, words become very easy to say.

Actions are harder. Actions require effort. They require time. They require inconvenience. They require getting out of bed. They require fuel and time.  They require sitting somewhere uncomfortable because someone else is uncomfortable. They require you to put another person’s needs completely ahead of your own.

And there is something incredibly intimate about that. Especially when the relationship is new. When you are still figuring each other out. When in some cases there isn’t even a label yet. When technically, neither of you has made any promises. You might still be learning their favourite food. You might still be deciding how much of your personality is safe to reveal. You might still be pretending you don’t care quite as much as you do. And then suddenly you are sitting together in a hospital.

It is difficult to maintain the rules of casual dating when real life turns up. Because real life doesn’t care whether you’ve been seeing each other for three weeks or three years. When someone you care about is frightened, you either show up or you don’t. And perhaps that is why moments like this can accelerate intimacy so quickly.

You see someone outside of the carefully constructed version of dating. You see how they behave when things aren’t fun. You see whether they panic. Whether they disappear. Whether they make it about themselves. Or whether they simply ask: “What do you need?” Sometimes the answer is nothing complicated. Apple juice. A hand to hold. Someone to make a stupid joke at exactly the right moment. Someone to sit there. Sometimes being looked after doesn’t mean someone fixing anything.

It means they make something frightening feel slightly less frightening because you aren’t experiencing it alone. There is a psychological reason that moments of vulnerability can make people feel closer. When we are vulnerable, we are allowing somebody into a part of ourselves that we normally protect. And when they respond with care rather than judgement, something changes.

Trust grows. Safety grows. You begin to believe that this person might be someone you can rely on. Not because they told you they were reliable. Because they demonstrated it. And perhaps that is one of the most underrated forms of romance. Reliability. It isn’t particularly exciting. Nobody writes songs about someone remembering to bring you water. Nobody makes a romantic comedy about a man checking whether you’ve taken your medication. Nobody puts “will sit with you in A&E” on a hinge prompt.

Although, perhaps they should. Because that would have me sold. And eventually, the grand gestures become ordinary life. Eventually, someone gets ill. Someone had a terrible day. Someone loses their job. Someone has a family problem. Someone is exhausted. Someone is anxious. Someone needs help. And that is when you discover what your relationship is actually made of.

Not the holidays. Not the photographs. Not the first date. The difficult Tuesday nights. The hospital waiting rooms. The supermarket trips when someone doesn’t feel well enough to cook. The cup of tea placed beside you without being asked. The “text me when you’re home.” The “I’ve got you.” The “Don't worry about it.” The apple juice. Especially the apple juice. Can you tell how touched I was by being given a carton of apple juice? 

Maybe that is what we should be looking for when we talk about love. Not just chemistry. Not just butterflies. Not just whether someone makes your heart race. But whether they make you feel safe. Whether they show up. Whether they notice when something is wrong. Whether they want to make difficult things easier for you. Whether their instinct when you are struggling is to move closer rather than further away. Because anyone can love the fun version of you.

The dressed-up version. The laughing version. The version sitting opposite them at dinner. Because girls, let’s be so real with each other, that’s the easiest side to love. The first face we show. 

But the real test isn’t whether someone likes you when everything is going well. It is whether they still want to sit beside you when nothing is going well at all. And perhaps that is why I think there is something particularly beautiful about the man who goes to the hospital with you. Not because a hospital visit proves that someone is going to love you forever. It doesn’t.

Not because one kind gesture can tell you everything about a relationship. It can’t.

But because, at that moment, he has a choice. He could have said he hoped you were okay. He could have sent a message. He could have stayed home. Instead, he came. He sat there. He made you laugh. He made sure you were comfortable. He brought you apple juice (yes I mentioned the apple juice again).

And sometimes love doesn’t announce itself with fireworks. Sometimes it doesn’t come with a speech. Sometimes it is just a man sitting beside you under horrible hospital lighting, making a frightening evening feel a little less frightening. Maybe that is what we should pay attention to. Not just who gives us butterflies. But who gives us a sense of safety. Not just who takes us somewhere beautiful. But who stays somewhere uncomfortable with us. Not just who says they care. But who shows up when caring actually requires something from them.

Because perhaps the most romantic thing someone can say isn’t “I’ll always love you.” Perhaps it’s much simpler. “I’m coming with you and I’ve brought apple juice.”

And then they do.

Written by, Poppy Gibbs