T. S. Elliot: "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

What a bizarre love poem, or I suppose I should say lack of love poem. The narrater, J. Alfred Prufrock, is quiet the odd character. He appears to genuinely want to find this "love," but his self-doubt, stands in the way. Rather then seeing himself as the romantic character in this story, he sees himself as more of a fly on the wall. In the end, he sincerely regrets his decision. I think he recognizes that he has lost his chance to grab life in that moment. It's almost sad that he concludes that he will most likely not find "love."
I find it's probably a very realistic situation though. How often do we chicken out, if you will, when we are faced with monumental moments in life. The narrater will question his decision to not act for the rest of his life.