Grudgingly,

I remember, I did finally go--after casting about for excuses not to, but finding none: it wasn’t really that cold, nor was it really raining and, though only one person wanted to go, no minimum number of people for such an excursion had been specified, so, not jolly, nor loquacious, I exited with him into the misty wind and headed to the famous university.

He didn’t get the standard passionate lyricism, nor the obligatory funny stories that humanize the red brick dreamscape. I am a little ashamed that I gave less than my best; my only excuse is that, all the way, I was straining to rouse my own supine interest. Yet, he was fascinated, full of alert questions, exuding a desperate longing to be one with the glamour of the place. I found myself at once admiring and resenting him. 

Your unquenchable enthusiasm for exploring what you had dreamed about grated on the callus of my weary familiarity with the topic. You gave no sign of noticing my lack of enthusiasm; you intended to enjoy the experience and did. 

Why not? Here we are. The world awaits. Let the grumpy be as they are, and not allow them to curb our enthusiasm. Let's consult instead the freshness and delicacy of our own responses to whatever we encounter.