I’m a woman who is attracted to both men and women. I’ve had relation­ships with both genders, and I’ve also spent significant periods of time on my own. There are too many things I’m interested in – from the wonky irreverence of ‘South Park’ to reading Noam Chomsky’s penetrating dis­sections of George Bush’s absent brain - to be with someone just for the sake of not being alone. When you’ve been with a person who really gets you - who also laughs when Mr Hanky the Christmas Pooh curls up in Kyle’s mouth while he’s asleep and takes a photograph of himself, who holds you when one of your closest friends from university is diagnosed with a horrible illness, who can open their mouth and utter words that inspire in you respect and a fascination with the forces that created this remarkable being, and who carries so much warmth in their eyes - then it is hard to settle for anything less.

Having a strong connection with someone – on an emotional, intel­lectual, and physical level – can be wonderful. The feelings of connection that I’ve related above stem from a relationship where feelings of love were reciprocated. This piece of writing however, is about a woman called Lori with whom I imagined I could establish a meaningful bond, yet who didn’t feel that way about me. I believed that a rare combination of seren­dipitous events had uncovered this amazing person and our union was destined to be. Unfortunately, I was completely wrong – the adoration existed purely from my end and was not mutual. Several years down the track, I can laugh, and be thankful that romantic love did not flourish be­cause Lori actually had some serious baggage. My idealization had con­veniently focused on her positive qualities and overlooked the damaged areas. But at the time, I languished terribly. I’d had unrequited crushes before, which hurt, but gradually eased as I realized the person was unin­terested. But in this case, for various reasons, with no confirmation as to the reciprocal nature of my feelings, I’d fallen in love.

I guess one of the reasons why I wasn’t more careful, was the fact that a friend of mine felt that I was the kind of person Lori was looking for. I was living overseas at the time in a large North American city; my friend was also originally from New Zealand, had known Lori and I for years, and was itching to hook us up. In addition to being intelligent and attrac­tive, my friend said that I had other qualities that would really appeal to Lori. ‘What is she looking for?’ I asked. ‘Well, her last girlfriend wasn’t academic enough, and she wants to be with someone she can exchange ideas with’, my friend said. That’s what I want too, I thought. ‘And she wants to be with someone who is deep and compassionate’, my friend continued. I totally fit this profile, exclaimed the more modest part of my brain. Lori and I finally met at a dinner party organized by my friend. My first impression was not accompanied by sparks and overpowering sex­ual attraction. In fact, I felt rather indifferent to her physical presence, and thought that she seemed quite neurotic. As the evening wore on however, the depth and breadth of her mind had totally won me over. She was a successful screenwriter, filmmaker, and artist, she was older than me, she was endearingly quirky and vulnerable, and I could feel my heart shift.

Over the next few weeks, Lori and I met to go to the movies. One night we met up for dinner and went to her place for coffee. I’d missed my last train, and she invited me to stay the night. She relinquished her bed to me; she was going to sleep on a fold-out downstairs because she had problems with insomnia and would need the bathroom. That night, in her bed, surrounded by fascinating books and art, I tossed and turned on her sheets, smelled her on the pillows and imagined us making soulful love.

My friend finally broke the news. Lori thought I was terrific, but she didn’t feel physically attracted to me. I felt shattered. I’d fallen in love with her for reasons that had a lot to do with her qualities as a person; the physical attraction had come later. Based on the conversation with my friend about the type of person Lori was looking for, I had hoped that she would be drawn to my personal virtues, the enjoyable closeness that we shared in similar interests and wild discursive flights of fancy, the delicious feeling that we ‘got’ and cared about each other, and the potential to ex­press that intimacy physically.

I guess this experience has made me wonder a lot about the nature of attraction, and how it can take on different forms. There are men and women for whom I can feel an immediate animal lust – I want to jump their bones. Then there are people who make a profound impression through the qualities they display, and the way they live their lives. A wide-ranging, playful intellect can be hugely sexy, as can someone who has developed spiritually and exudes warmth, self-acceptance, and a good sense of humour.

I’ve also thought about the amount of projection that can be involved in romantic love and infatuation. I know that I saw Lori through rose-tinted glasses and had notions of a true meeting of souls; the reality of a rela­tionship, together with some very disturbed baggage from her past (which I was blind to at the time), would have quickly revealed the cracks in that fantasy.

Six months after the heartbreak with Lori, I was attracted to some­one who was quite different from her. I think I needed this difference, to counteract the anguish of disappointment. He was from Trinidad, 6’4’’, a political science graduate, and warm and funky. There was a lot of fun, a lot of warmth, and my heart slowly began to mend.

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