The great thing about accepting that you are never, ever going to be in love and that this is your own fault for removing that part of yourself for safety's sake is that there is no one to blame but you, and that, once you get over the occasional WAH brought on by films and novels, you can pretend that no one else ever will either. They certainly won't live up to those standards. Which is a little depressing, because somehow you feel that people ought to be able to do that, but at the same time; it's not just me. No one is good enough. It really isn't just me.