Waiting Atop the Empire State Building

I write this for those who understand.. and the others I care nothing for.. so said Ayn Rand about Fountainhead.. (and felt about most of her works, I think). I wish I could say the same.. but I don’t think I'm that self actualized yet.

Like all the best writers I'm writing a love story... and to top them I'm filling it with love affairs. The first began on a regular day in school.. pigtails, knee length socks, an as- yet- unspotted- face (hormones kicked in soon after). I had no idea that I'd start so young or that a teacher would force me into the meeting- but she did. She told me of him and I couldn't wait. That very day I stayed up till 3 cavorting with him. He was rather correct but first love is first love.. and I knew no better for the next 2 years. Fitzgerald Darcy walked into my life.. a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.. and truly I have never wavered from that edict since. Every man I meet is a possible. And why not? They don't know better.. unless they have Darcy's good sense to come up to me and say 'long have I struggled..' yada yada and profess their undying love.

As the years have passed he has mellowed in my mind and become the one I remember with fondness.. first flush and tenderness. I owe him my loyalty and sweetness but can he bloody his head for me? Will he wring and writhe and torment himself and me as only the deepest, darkest love can? The question came and feeling guilty I locked it away.. but then I met Heathcliff. Bye bye Darcy. I love you, I really do.. but this man is for me. Darcy understood. Stayed in the shadows and watched me pick up another man.

Heathcliff is less tolerant, he won't let me love another. What started one purple streaked evening has become forever. Nothing less will do.
I meet other men and sometimes I love them a little, I admire them and wonder about their minds. Take Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov.. wouldn't one want to talk to him? Why does he wander so? 'Lies lead us to the truth'.. and he could have been one lie for me on the way. Or Aragon.. now there's a man that I could never be sure whether to love or just be awed by? Like Eowyn I mistook respect for love. We girls do that once in a while. He suits Arwen better. No regrets there. And then there was Roark.. the one man who tempted me beyond fidelity. Just as capable of stirring agony. As earthy, as single mindedly passionate. He spoke of his work and I felt he was God about to create man. Such was his power.
I found that he was taken.. a friend had loved him for years and one thing a girl can never do is poach on a friend's territory. There are many fish in the sea and about as many emotions.

Sometimes I wish that I had met Heathcliff a little later. But shit happens.(I'm mixing my references… but movies are so succinctly spot on).
I guess you've just got to live with the man written for you.

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This is dated years ago.. I have it on good authority (which means India was yakking as usual).. that since then she has been owned by Francisco Domingo Carlos Andres Sebastian D'anconia in part and Atlas Shruggred in full. She is resolutely keeping Heathcliff locked away. This time I wonder who shall win.