"Have you ever been in love?" She asked him.
"Being in love is relative, I might and I might not have" he replied.
"How do you mean?" She was perplexed.
"Well, what do you consider being in love?" He asked in turn.
"Safety..." she began, "companionship, trust, someone to come and tell about your day to at the end of it". He cocked his head a little to the side, as if in consideration. " I consider love to be passion and obsession. To be so consumed by the person who is the object of my affections that I think of little else" His statement startled her.
"So if we go with your definition of it," he said, waving a hand as if to encompass her entire statement "then no, I cant say I've ever been in love, but if we were to go with mine, then yes, I have been in love a time or two. Each unique and magical in its own way, as I'm sure yours was to you. So you see my dear, love is quite relative." She didn't know how to reply to that, except to say, "I never thought of it that way before". He nodded distractedly.