Loving someone is easy. Its your car and all you have to do is start the engine, give her little gas and point the thing wherever you want to go.
But being loved is like being taken for a ride in someone else's car. Even you think they'll be a good driver, you always have the innate fear they might do through the windshield towards imminent disaster.
Being loved means goodbye to control and what happens if half-way or three-quarters of the way through the trip you decide you want to go back, or in different direction, and you're only the co-driver?