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Post-Modern Drunk: Why, I wonder, is my heart full of holes?
Two weeks ago, I was suddenly set upon by a period of weakness. I realized that, against my better judgement, I was extraordinarily vulernerable to falling in love. I had no specific inamorata, but I was filled with the realization that the part of my mental immune system in charge of love had been disabled: my infatuation T-cell count was at it's nadir. It was a very troubling time for me; sure, I very much want to fall in love, but I don't just want to go around falling in love willy nilly.
Now, two weeks later, I still don't understand the confluence of events that lead to this state. It could have been an extreme case of nicotine withdrawal coupled with overwork, along with an overdose of emo music (the immortal question from "High Fidelity" comes up again: Do we listen to pop music because we are depressed, or are we depressed because we listen to pop music? Only, in this case, replace "depressed" with "in love." The distance between the two isn't always as far as you might hope). It might even have been sparked by my having passed the restaurant where I last went on a date (an only moderately successful one, since the girl left me the morning after and I've never heard from her again), only to find that the restaurant has closed permanently since that time. Or maybe it's just an inexplicable moment of mental weakness.
So yes. There are those out there right now who are indubitably shaking their head and muttering at me. what could be so wrong with falling in love? The problem was, I was in such a vulnerable state that I knew I was open to falling for pretty much anyone who treated me the right way for the right period of time; I wasn't open to falling in love with Ms. Right, but rather Ms. Right Now. So while I normally fall for emotionally unavailable women who tend to be mean to me, suddenly I was in a state to fall for the first girl who was remotely nice and friendly to me.
That just wouldn't do.
So there I was, at a party on that weekend, more succeptible to falling in love than normal. I should have spent the weekend like Howard Hughes, doing the emotional equivalent of wearing tissue boxes for shoes and getting regular blood transfusions. Instead, I bathed in the proverbial cesspool. And of course, someone was nice to me and suddenly, as Bob Dylan sings, "I'm in love with a woman who don't even appeal to me." She's pretty and friendly, and a perfect example as to why a love immune system is an important thing to have. Because it means you become convinced that anyone who even smiles at you is perfect for you. And this girl definitely was not. Aside from being friendly and kind, we have nothing in common.
Wait, revise that. She's friendly and kind, and this is just the start of how little we have in common. And our cultural backgrounds are so incredibly far apart that, not only are they incompatible, but they wouldn't even speak to each other at a party.
So, thank Christ, my love immune system got a burst of protease inhibitors, and has successfully fought off the infection. I'm back to being my emotionally guarded--if confessional--self.
But that was a close one. Dodged a bullet that time.
