Today marks ten years to the day since I met Karen, ten years since I
fell hard for her—and almost exactly eight¾ years
since I recovered.
I was in Abell
Library (amusingly, the library home page is exactly as it was a
decade ago) that evening, and saw a guy from my wing of Baker Hall; he
was studying Kafka with a pair of girls. I got to talking with one of
the girls: talking, and talking, and talking. She was fascinating:
religious (like me!); a fan of Tolkien (like me!); a history geek (like
me!). And although far from classically lovely, there was something
about her I found attractive. No doubt it was the hunter green sweater
& red hair pulled into a ponytail which together gave her a faint
English look. I vaguely remember, once I’d left the library and
she was out of sight, leaping into the air and clicking my heels
together. Yup, I was well-and-truly smitten.
Hormones exist for several purposes, many quite useful (it’d
get quite cold here in Denver without the beard I possess courtesy of
some hormones which started their work almost twenty years ago), but
they serve one end which is quite pernicious: they addle the brain. Our
minds rely on our brains to process data for us; the brain is the
mind’s calculator, its web browser, its interface to the body and
through the body to the outside world. Under the influence of hormones
the brain’s workings are confounded and the mind no longer
perceives the truth. This is a good thing for the species as a whole,
for otherwise no-one would marry. Women and men are fundamentally
incompatible, and only through intoxication—whether by chemical or
biological means—can we persuade ourselves otherwise. Eventually
we sober up, but by that point it’s too late: we’re married,
with children and mortgages and throw pillows and curtains and sleeping
next to someone whose vocabulary possesses sixteen different words for
the colour white.
It’s amusing how hormones persuade us that the object of our
affections is exactly what we want. If one wishes an active mate, his
brain fails to perceive that his beloved would really rather stay at
home and read a good book; his hormone-addled brain sees the two skiing
trips and the disused bicycle and ignores the bookshelves and the
literary reviews. Likewise the girl who wants a scholarly young man:
her hormone-intoxicated brain sees only the unread copies of Aquinas,
Newton & Gould (inherited from his flat’s former owner) and
completely overlooks the football jersey, the Playboy
centrefolds on the wall and the C average. Hormones are brain
damage.
In my case I had been taught to put friendship and intellectual &
philosophical similarity at a premium and discount physical
attraction—and I was only to happy to perceive exactly that. Why,
Karen & I were practically identical! We read the same books; we
thought the same things; we could sit and talk for hours (over twelve
hours in one memorable instance). Why, we agreed on everything. Well,
everything important. Well, almost everything important. And I could
convince her on the outstanding issues. And besides, we were so similar
on the big political issues of the day, e.g. we both opposed gun
control. Even the fact that she wasn’t a classic beauty was a
mark in her favour, for it proved that this was an authentic love.
Hormones are brain damage.
In reality, we were similar insofar as we were both intelligent,
quirky, middle-class, American teenagers of the 1990s who had both read
the books that intelligent, quirky, middle-class, American teenagers
read back in the 1990s. Sure, she wasn’t fanatically anti-gun,
but that’s hardly rare in Texas. While we did have
interests in common, we came at them from different angles and for
different reasons: the boy who reads about Sts. Nicholas & Alexandra
because they are the Royal Martyrs has little in common with the girl
who reads about Tsar Nicholas & Tsaritsa Alexandra because they were
famous historical failures. Hormones are brain damage.
But my hormone-addled senses convinced me that dating Karen made
sense, that it was a logical, rational thing to do. There was one
hitch, though: she had a boyfriend—but he went to a school roughly
six hours away. I figured that I had a pretty good chance; after all,
don’t most high school relationships break up once they become
long-distance in college? I’ve often wished that he’d gone
to Austin College as well, for then it’s likelier that I’d
have given up. Instead, I persisted for over a year, in defiance of all
logic & reason. Hormones are brain damage.
Karen is blameless in all this: she mentioned Scott the evening we
met and never led me to think she would break things off with him. If
anything, she was very clear that they were quite fond of one another
and that she & I had no romantic future. Despite the evidence, I
was convinced that I could somehow win her affections. Hormones are
brain damage.
I was a lovesick pup for month after month; I spent every possible
minute with her; I bored my friends with talk of her; I spent the summer
break of ’97 pining after her; I contacted her immediately after
she got back on campus; in short, I made a complete and utter ass of
myself. I alienated my friends and neglected my studies. Hormones are
brain damage.
It’s odd how quickly these things can start & end. I fell
for Karen in an instant, and I fell away almost as quickly. I still
remember the day: it was the end of the 1998 Jan Term (very possibly 23
January, which would be nicely symmetrical) and my best friend Phil
& I were sitting in his dorm room polishing off a magnum of hard
cider we’d made. I can still see the winter sun slanting in
through the blinds, and can still remember saying, You know, I
don’t think I’m in love with Karen anymore.
It was as
simple as that, like a light switch being flipped on.
For a time after my brain cleared I strongly disliked her, although
it wasn’t really her that I hated; it was the error of which she
reminded me. Eventually that shame subsided and we became decent
acquaintances. Karen’s married to Scott now, with one son and
another child due in a month or two, and I’m quite happy for
them.
I wouldn’t have things turn out any other way. Karen & I
would have been a big mistake even if she’d be amenable:
we’re just not anywhere a good match, but hormone-drunk I was
convinced we were. Hormones are brain damage.
