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Some people must be born with a sort of disease, an internal defect that all members of the opposite sex can detect, which makes them utterly undesirable in some way.

For convenience's sake, let's call it Lovers' Plague.

I am a prime example of one infested with Lovers' Plague. I never understood exactly what's wrong with me, but it's got to be something subtle like that. Cerebrally I know I'm a nice girl, but something must be severely off-kilter inside me, some hormonal imbalance that repels males as far away as they can run.

Now, before you coo and comfort, saying of course not and I'm just imagining things, let's look at the cold hard facts. I am nineteen years old. I am pretty. I am intelligent. I am talented. I am relatively amusing. I am a virgin who has never been kissed and had one boyfriend who was afraid to even hold her hand her senior year of highschool. Even the one guy in my life who said he loved me and meant it also said in the same breath that he'd learned to overlook physical attraction (I know, gee thanks, right?).

So before you rush in with your explanations, I want the cold hard truth. Tell me what it is. Guys, this is your chance to be brutally honest without me getting angry. Tell me so I can fix it, or finally just resign myself to it.

I have another friend who suffers from the Lovers' Plague as well. She, like me, is an intelligent, decent-looking, funny 19-year-old girl, and actually has interesting things to say. When she was young she did have some mental problems, but she's overcome them now. Now it rarely reveals itself except when she's a little too emphatic and smiles a little too wide, as if she thinks it's expected.

She and I had a Plague Sisterhood going, albeit not by that name. We'd both had the one boyfriend who was too "young" for us, we both had a million things to offer someone smart enough to come along. We consoled each other when we were feeling lonely, and I figured I would be okay as long as I had a companion in the trenches.

Recently her old boyfriend from highschool got in touch with her again, and he's grown up a lot. They've gone visiting back and forth to each other's colleges, and recently she broke down and said she was still in love with him.

He's transferring to a nearby college next semester.

Julia is deliriously happy, and I'm so happy for her. I cry, I'm so happy. She deserves it.

Goddammit, I suck. I can't even be happy for my friend. Lovers' Plague seems to come with side effects, like frustration and bitterness and an utter determination never to let anyone see how much you need them, because as soon as they know they'll squash you into cream o' wheat (paging Charlie Brown).

I'm unsure whether my chest hurts because I'm being melodramatic or because I'm holding my breath. I'm holding my breath because every time I inhale I seem to sniff. And every time I exhale I seem to whimper.

I don't want to talk about this anymore.

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