You know that moment.
It is, after all, a well-trod trope that occurs all too frequently in fiction. You know, that electrifying moment of clarity when you finally look up after so many years and realize that your longtime friend/nerd in the classroom/person whose existence you've previously disregarded is in fact that most beautiful girl/guy in the world and thus a worthy object of your fevered romantic delusions. There may or may not be alcohol and/or other mind-altering substances involved in that particular moment of epiphany, but your perception of said individual is nonetheless permanently re-calibrated thereafter: it's love.
An analogous scenario can be said to exist vis-a-vis figure skating: when one watches a single performance so awe-inspiringly, spine-chillingly right such that all extant pre-existing (negative) notions about the skater are completely and utterly dashed for the better. Such moments, however, tend to crop up with rather less frequency in reality than in fiction. After all, these moments involve not only the smashing of firmly entrenched paradigms, but also the precipitous task of falling in love instaneously. Whatever Marlowe may say about love ("who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?"), I've always felt Shakespeare made much more sense instead: the course of true love never did run smooth. In other words: it's not that easy--you want my love, you better earn it with consistently great programs paired with great performances. Not even Stephane Lambiel was able to completely capture my heart with a single performance (though Spanish Caravan in 2005 came close, but then again, I definitely had a favorable impression of Mr. Lambiel prior to watching that program for the first time).