I've dallyed with other species, and been prone to short-term romances with far-off places, but there's a little warmwater lake full of gills, crappies and bass about 20 minutes away that has welcomed me with open arms since I was old enough to swing a rod. No matter where my last fling took me or how long I lingered there, it's always welcomed me home and I've been as glad to see it as it was to see me. After thirty-odd years the thrill has never left. There's no place like home. And nothing has spoiled the feel of a nice gill tugging on a light rod.
If it swims and eats, it'll eat a fly.