Once upon a time...

[vr_trakowski]

…I should have fallen in love. 

I had a friend once, the kind one makes through fandom, someone erudite and funny and clever.  We shared long and rambling e-mails to begin with, and then we IM’d each other for hours, chatting and laughing and sharing secrets.  He was a scholar at heart, a gentleman, a kind and generous person who had the gift of writing and writing well. 

We shared many interests; fandoms of various sorts (though not all), great books, fantasy and science fiction and the possibilities of the future.  There were things we disagreed about and chose not to discuss; there were things we cheerfully argued over.  We ranted at each other, exulted together, made much of small things and belittled big things and generally had lots of fun.  Eventually he came to visit.  He made a step of great courage and went a long way, and we had a great time, hunting history and watching Firefly and going places. 

The thing is, I should have fallen for him, and hard.  He was nearly a perfect match for me--liking what I like and not thinking my obsessions crazy, loving puns, kind and gentle and open-hearted.  He had bright eyes and a great sense of humor.  He was warm and real.  And we were already good friends. 

And yet I didn’t.  It was bizarre.  I should have, and I didn’t.  All the keys were there, all the things that make my heart open up to someone.  But they didn’t work. 

I think, in the end, that I’m simply no longer capable of that kind of galvanic shock, that kind of love.  It’s been almost a decade since I felt even so much as a twinge of attraction that went beyond the merely superficial.  It’s not that I don’t love, because I do; but that particular kind of love…no. 

I’ll admit that in the past falling in love has caused me more pain than pleasure, in the end.  I’ve never fallen for anyone who returned the affection, and when I did fall I fell deep.  I have a romantic side and in the past it caused me trouble; privately obsessing about oblivious objects of attachment wasted a lot of my time.  Perhaps I’ve trained myself out of it. 

However it didn’t happen, though, the fact remains that the fault lies in me.   I appear incapable of what some consider to be the greatest love of all. 

And, honestly, I don’t mind.  It’s a relief in a way to know that I’m immune to that rich emotion, that I’ll never have to deal with its highs and lows and intensity again.  That spring is dry, and I won’t miss the taste of its water.