I’ve said this for years, and it usually gets one of two reactions: a slow nod of understanding or a look of pure, offended confusion.

Most people think love and liking are the same thing, just at different volumes. They think “liking” is the base level and “loving” is what happens when you turn the dial all the way to the right.

They’re wrong.

In fact, conflating the two is why so many relationships—professional and personal—are absolute train wrecks. We’ve turned love into a feeling we can’t control, and we’ve turned liking into a moral obligation.

Let’s stop doing that. Here is the distinction and why it matters.

Love is a Choice

For me, love isn’t a “spark” or a warm fuzzy feeling that hits me when someone is nice to me. Love is a discipline. It’s a choice.

I choose to love everyone. That includes the person I just met, the person I’ve known for twenty years, and even the person who is actively trying to make my life difficult. To love someone is to decide, ahead of time, that you will act in their best interest. It means you value their humanity, you wish them well, and you refuse to treat them with malice.

Love is an operating system. It’s how I decide to show up in the world. It’s a mission. If I only “loved” people who earned it, that wouldn’t be love—that would be a transaction.

Liking is Chemistry (and Social Bandwidth)

Liking is an entirely different animal. Liking is about frequency, energy, and harmony.

And the truth is, I don’t like very many people.

I’m an introvert. I’m perfectly happy—often happier—being alone. I’m also pretty easily irritated. I have a very low tolerance for “theater,” for lack of accountability, and for people who waste time with fluff.

Liking someone requires a specific kind of chemistry where our energies don’t clash. It means I enjoy your company, I want to spend my limited social battery on you, and I find our interaction more energizing than exhausting.

That is a high bar. And that’s okay.

Why This Offends People

When people hear “I don’t like you,” they hear a judgment on their character. They think I’m saying they are a bad person.

Actually, the fact that I don’t like someone is almost always my problem, not theirs. It’s a reflection of my own temperament, my need for solitude, and my specific irritations. If I don’t “like” you, it just means our gears don’t mesh. It doesn’t mean you’re broken; it just means I’m not the right audience for your show.

The irony is that most people would rather be “liked” than “loved.” They want the validation of the feeling. But “liking” is fickle. It changes when you get annoyed or when someone stays too long at your house.

Love, when defined as a choice, is much more stable. I can think you’re incredibly annoying—I can find every word out of your mouth irritating—and I can still choose to love you. I can still choose to be fair, to be honest, and to help you if you’re down.

The Value of the Distinction

Why am I writing this? Because the world gets a lot clearer when you stop lying to yourself about how you feel.

1. It eliminates guilt. You don’t have to feel like a “bad person” because you don’t want to go to the party or because you find a colleague exhausting. You can stop forcing a “like” that isn’t there.

2. It increases integrity. When you realize love is a choice, you realize you are responsible for how you treat people regardless of how you feel about them. “I was annoyed” is no longer an excuse for being a jerk.

3. It protects your time. Life is too short to surround yourself with people you don’t actually like just because you feel a social obligation to “be a nice person.”

I’ll keep choosing to love everyone. It’s the only way to live with any kind of purpose. But I’m going to stay very picky about who I like. My circle is small, it’s quiet, and it’s honest.

If you’re in it, you know it. If you’re not, don’t take it personally. I still wish you the best.