LONDON — Love and bacon hovered in the air of the Smalley house one sunny morning when Annie, 7, came to breakfast.
A ''baconaholic,'' according to her father, Annie spied the last remaining strips of the intoxicating salty meat on a plate. She could easily have inhaled them all. But incoming was Annie's sister, Murphy, 16, another bacon devotee. Annie paused and decided to offer one strip of crispy goodness to her sister. ''Dad,'' she declared, "''I just laid down my life for Murphy.''
Perhaps, Greg Smalley reminded his daughter, the pig had sacrificed more. But what struck him was the choice. The sisters had a history of generosity toward each other, but Annie had given up something important — a massive understatement for any bacon lover — for Murphy's delight. ''Love," Smalley said by email, "is built on small, daily sacrifices that quietly say, 'You matter.'''
In doing so, Annie arguably had gotten the love part right — a universal goal that's been sought and debated across borders, politics and religions for as long as people have been writing things down.
Ahead of Valentine's Day 2026, with the card and chocolate industries eager to help, loving someone well — a romantic partner, a parent, a child, a pet and especially yourself — can seem as perplexing as ever. It depends on what you want, and don't, as well as what others want from you — now and in five minutes, relentlessly.
Love stinks, love bites, love hurts: What history says about loving well
Across traditions and philosophies, love is generally defined as an ongoing moral choice that requires truthfulness and accountability. What it's not, those texts widely say: controlling, unconditional or abusive.
Aristotle wrote that to love, a person ''wishes and does what is good, or seems to, for the sake of his friend.'' St. Thomas Aquinas taught that, ''to love is to will the good of the other.'' The Old Testament includes a famous directive, translated roughly: ''Love your neighbor as yourself.''