"I've Been Such a Fool!"

"I've been such a fool!" People in 1940s films always seemed to be saying that. At least, they always seemed to be saying it in the old black and white films the BBC used to show on Sunday afternoons when I was a kid. It usually came near the denouement, as the hero or heroine realised that they'd spent the entire film chasing the wrong partner, and that their true love had been there right in front of them all the time, usually in the form of an impoverished school master, meek maid or the like. I always used to wonder if anybody had ever said such a thing in real life. I mean, it does seem a bit restrained, even by 1940s standards, to simply describe yourself as a fool when caught in a life-changing moment of romantic revelation. I'm guessing that even monochrome people would be a bit more animated when in throes of such emotional turmoil. Even I was moved to exclaim "Fuck!" very loudly upon seeing the sometime object of my affection holding hands with someone else some years ago - and I'm a pretty restrained and sophisticated fellow! The one thing I didn't think was that I'd been a fool.

However, a while ago I found myself quietly uttering those words to myself. I think it was something I was watching on TV which triggered it, but I'm still confused as to how exactly I thought I'd been a fool. Superficially, I thought that I'd been a fool because I'd elected not to fight for the affections of someone I cared about, instead just withdrawing quietly from the picture when it became obvious they were enamoured of someone else, (I think these thoughts were inspired by what was happening on TV at the time). But, the more I've pondered on the matter, the more I've questioned the true nature of my foolishness. In truth, wasn't I foolish in misreading friendship for something else and subsequently deluding myself that the relationship could be anything else? Then I had another thought - perhaps I was a fool for allowing myself to be drawn in by her (for the second time, as it happens)? Looking back, it occurred to me that the times when she seemed closest and keenest to see me, were when nobody else was available. Was I the perennial second choice, good enough to be stand in, but never likely to be the real thing? In which case, I really was a bloody fool. To accept this latter definition of my foolishness would require accepting a degree of manipulativeness I don't think my friend was capable of - so I choose instead to plump for the second explanation of why I was a fool, self delusion. If nothing else, it fits with my track record in affairs of the heart. It also absolves my friend - someone I still care for - from blame. The fact is that she never realised how I felt about her, and I was too foolish to spell it out. A fool indeed! But at least I'm not a monochrome fool! That has to count for something, surely?