A discussion with a friend tonight led me to dig up something I wrote ages, or at least six years, ago, that I think merits sharing:
They say that love will happen when you least expect it… but how could it possibly strike me unawares when I am constantly looking for it, ever watching for its arrival? All receptors are on full alert, technicians ready to receive and store incriminating data. I am a satellite registering and measuring love’s radiowaves. I am a fly, with huge, magnifying eyes, able to see an approach from any direction. I constantly change position, leaving no area unsearched, no rock unturned in my search for love. How, thus, could it find me unawares?
And yet, I know it must.