Love is such a damn mess. I'm with a man I love "as a friend" even though we have children together. I have been separated from the man I love in that strange, scary deep way for years. And I am so damn torn about the matter. I wish wish wish it were the other way around. That I cared for my husband as deeply as I do the other man, and vice versa. I don't even wish they switched places, only that my feelings for them would. Because my husband is, at heart, a good guy. Or he tries to be. And my other guy, he is a good guy, without trying to be. But he isn't mine. He never was, even when he claimed to be. He is that man who belongs to every other person on the planet, but never to me. He never stayed awake nights thinking of me, wishing for my company, pining for me when I wasn't there. When we separated, he didn't cry, didn't mourn, just moved on, probably with a sigh of guilty relief. And when I start thinking like that, I start wondering why he still talks to me. He cares, but is it an obligation? There are too many questions, too many doubts, too much self depreciation associated with him for me to ever be comfortable in an intimate relationship with him.

At least with my husband I  know where we stand. I have never doubted his devotion to me, that his universe is directly tied to my existence within his life. The problem is, that universe is a dark, ichorous place to be tied to. A black hole, almost. So while he dotes on me, worries for me, thinks about me constantly, it is not the sweet romantic thoughts of a lover, but the possessive thoughts of an owner. Because he is so desperately connected to me, the thought of my leaving, being gone or someone else's is crippling to him. To think of me with another man, without him, is too much, and so he prefers to keep me locked up against my will rather than see me happy. But at least I know I matter to him, and that if I wanted him the way he wants me, it would make him the happiest man ever.

So on one end of the spectrum there is  desolation. I can get semi-close, and take the attention that comes my way (mostly sexual, he has maintained I was the best he ever had) and adjust to being replaceable, dispensible, never secure in his love for me. Or I can stay here, and be stifled by adoration, desperately needed and wanted, at all costs. Because regardless of A., or any other man out there, these two are it...they are the choices I have. I really like A., and his company, but it's an entirely new situation to throw in on top of the rest of this damn mess.

I wish, sometimes, that the other man would step forth, and say, "hey, look. Your great, but just not for me. Get it through your head. I don't care for you that way."  Just spit out that he never did, that he never will, that everything is the way I see it as. Because then I could pound it into my own head, and settle for everything else. He won't, he never has, but it's what I need. Of course, I can't tell him that, because he doesn't know it means that much to me. That was part of letting him go, making him think he didn't matter that much to me, or if he knew, making him think I would get over it. Hell, I should have gotten over it. But I didn't, and here I am.  Damn.