crossover

A friend said to me recently that the fear of ending up alone had just come upon her for the first time in her life. First I laughed, because I confronted that fear a long time ago, and though it rears its ugly head from time to time, it hasn't held power over me since. Then the conversation went on, and we talked about the men we left behind. In the past month, I have seen so many of them, these men in my life who started out romantically, and when they wouldn't have me, the fire I had for them died, and then when they knocked again, I knew I wouldn't have them. She said the only thing scarier to her than ending up alone was doing so by choice. By choice. By not settling for someone who would promise to love her if that person wasn't someone she really wanted to have. And I wonder now, as another cycle has begun to set itself in motion, as I've begun to see why he wasn't right in the first place and I know he is thinking of me again, and I expect as I did two months ago that he'll be at my door sooner or later, making timid gestures and my heart has moved on. I'm not so much afraid of ending up alone, least of all by choice. Maybe I'm sad at the possibility that a great romance won't sweep me away like it does in the movies. Maybe my great romance will look more like a quiet Russian novel, a Dr. Zhivago, maybe. Or maybe it's just Sunday morning.