The story of a love is not important - what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity. What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. True love isn't the kind that endures through long years of absence, but the kind that endures through long years of propinquity.
Love is our attempt to assuage the terror and isolation of that separateness.
Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must. There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing. All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else.