The Prim Lieutenant's Song

In a lot of classic movies (take "Letter from An Unknown Woman") the heroine is chased by and sometimes married to a prim lieutenant. Invariably he has clipped facial hair and exquisite manners: he has strong moral standards, and may even be some sort of war hero. Yet at some level he is remote, stylised and unsympathetic because in not knowing how to love he makes himself unloveable.

With A I truly have only msyelf to blame. I was romantic, she responded in kind. I was cool, she responded in kind. I confused myself and then lost interest in going out with her, and of course she has done the same. However, I went on a lot of lovely dates with her, and got to kiss a beautiful girl. I also feel I have gained a close friend, so really I have nothing to complain about. All that is left to do is analyse what I did wrong and apply it to the future.

I am, of course, the prim lieutenant -- I chase down leading ladies, and can for a time imprison them like a butterfly under a glass, but I can never touch them. I am too self-aware to be greedy, too concerned with respecting women to arouse love in them. We must not pity the prim lieutenant: he will one day find himself an upright and religious wife and find himself satisfied. But I don't have his clockwork toy movements, his steely self-belief or his bullet-grey eyes.

I have railed before about the selfishness of love -- I effectively promised myself never to take anything from A. People are like sculptures in unset clay, and we pinch bits from each other to add to ourselves in order to grow. In being unselfish I rendered A immoveable, and so petrified her love. I will play the part of the prim lieutenant in a romantic cliche until I can write my own parts: I am dangerous, scintillating and hungry like a prairie fire, and I will continue to pursue beauty and genius without ever being satisfied with less.