Forty odd years ago just as I was entering manhood I fell head-over-heels in love with a Danish girl. She wasn't in love with me, of course. In retrospect I realize that what I loved was my conception of her, a composite image of what I knew and what I hoped. This love lasted for quite a while considering it was completely unrequited: two years, through several countries on two continents. Mostly I was miserable and I behaved like a cad to other young women who tried to comfort me. What can I say? I was foolish, young and very unhappy.

This madness ended abruptly. I saw her again after a long absence; we spent an evening together. She said something that was both shallow and contemptuous and in a flash I saw her, my love, and me for what we really were. In that instant I was cured. The funny thing is I am sure she was completely oblivious to both my love for her and its end.

A lifetime passes. I am startled by the reflection of an old man in shop windows, my father? God no it’s me. I don't feel that old. The memories are still fresh, the sweet and the sour that living has brought me. Now and then I still try to make sense of that love-madness so long ago.

Like bookends, just as I was entering my dotage, I had fallen in love with a Canadian woman. She wasn't in love with me, of course. I realized that what I loved might be my conception of her, a composite image of what I knew and what I hoped for. Maybe I had been given the chance to handle it better this time.

It ended badly; she didn't believe I could feel so strongly in such a short time. She was ambivalent and sent me many mixed messages. Finally she showed contempt towards my feelings for her and that drove me away. During our time together I had brief periods of elation but mostly I felt jealousy and despair.

Did I do better this time? I suppose so; I didn't knowingly hurt anybody else in the process. I will get over it in time but if this new love is truly like the old one, I will have two chunks missing from my heart.

I just hope I never fall in love like this again and yet I wonder, what if a love like this was ever returned in kind?