(The following is, if you will, unstructured poetry - I have no idea what it means, even though I wrote it.)
There once was a story about love, but that story wasn't ever published. It was a story in the sense that it had a beginning and middle, but, notably, it lacked an end. There was a main character, the protagonist, and many obstacles for him, or was it a her, to overcome. No matter how hard they tried, the story just kept going. One adventure would lead to another. Even the rainy, boring days seemed to go on forever.
The protagonist played his, or maybe her, part extrodinarily well. Transversing through the storyline and weaving their own unique metaphors throughout the fabric of the plot. But this was a story about love, which means that there must be someone to love, and someone to be loved. Can love exist with only one? Maybe, but that's not how this story went.
So it was, that love requried two.
And they lived happily ever after. Forever.